Quiet Summer
by Wilhelmina Willoughby
Summary: HIATUS. L/J. "The first duty of love is to listen." In arguing, neither gave up. But when James finally walks away and Lily is left standing in his wake, the echo of his silence ringing in her ears, something changes in her heart.
1. Ending

**ONE: ENDING**

"_I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity."  
_- Gilda Radner

* * *

I don't know how it started. There was a joke thrown. Someone overreacted. Someone else defended. There were others around – concerned friends, exasperated friends – but they stood back, wary of our fire. It was the usual song – a melody of insults and accusations hiding an underlying pain, a simmering anger, jealousy and apprehension and discomfort riding on the steady beat of tension, counting away measures of words that didn't really mean anything at all. It got ugly. I yelled and swore and he yelled and swore, I shoved him and he clenched his fists. People were watching but it wasn't anything new, just the same old song, the same old unchanging, monotonous song.

I don't know how it started, but I was so tired of the repetition. Something had to break. Something had to shift or disappear or just _change_because I was so, so tired, so worn from this, whatever this was, whatever made us fight each other so hard for so many years. I was stubborn and he was stubborn and maybe that was it – we butted heads because we had to, because there was no other way to be. We fought because we were both unchanging, solid like the earth, immovable and unyielding. Maybe that was it. Maybe.

I don't know how it started and in the middle of it, I lost track of what words my mouth was forming because my eyes were growing damp. I was horrified at myself. Crying. It didn't register. He said something, something that sounded like the whisper of dream, it was so soft, but the song had skipped and I was thrown off, standing there staring at my wet hand. I was crying. Something had to break. Maybe _I_had to break. Maybe this breaking would heal the hardness of my heart and fix this damned song, this damned, wrenching song. Maybe.

I don't know how it started but the words were still running, and judging by the onyx in his eyes and the acid on my tongue, they weren't harmonizing correctly. Something had deviated. My lungs were aching now, somewhere deep in my chest, past that unshakeable plate of armor, past that icy, glacial heart. This song was new; this song was an intermission, a pause, a hum, a low bridge until the next verse. My throat was raw and his face was red. The fire had been tempered but I knew it would be back, flaring to a blaze, burning and licking the scabs of old wounds, revealing the pain and anger and jealousy and apprehension and discomfort and tension.

I don't know how it started, but I know how it ended. Someone stubborn walked away first, and maybe that would make the difference. Maybe.


	2. Gravity

_A/N: After much stress about its "realness," I give you chapter two. Chapter three, Morningside, should be up this weekend/next week, depending on how fast I can write it and how well my fantastic beta Zayz can assuage my anxiety. Also! The way I wrote this chapter will not be the way I write the others. It will still be FPOV with Lily, but not so much... like this. _

_Thank you for stumbling across Quiet Summer, and I hope you enjoy! (Reviews aren't such a painful thing, readers - let me know how I did!)_

_As always,  
Mina :)_

* * *

**TWO: GRAVITY**

* * *

I dreamt of him that night after our fight on the train home – his angry eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the feeling of his hand wrapped around my wrist – and woke up in a cold sweat, the vestiges of his face looming at me in the dark. His voice lingered in the air as I sat up in bed and clutched the sheets to my racing heart, beating in time with the rotation of the ceiling fan, the rasping of air in my throat.

_I'm here, Lily, _he'd said._ I've always been right here. _

I pulled my knees against my chest and wrapped my arms around my calves, holding myself in. The green lights of my alarm clock flashed the time – 3:47 AM – and I let out a small, shaky breath. Nightmare. It was just a nightmare, nothing but over-exaggerated memories of the day before. Sure, it hurt to relive them again, and it would hurt tomorrow, when I thought about it some more, and maybe it would even hurt when I had to see his face again, whenever that might be. He'd been so angry.

Friends. We had been friends. Essentially, I guess, that's what the blowout had been about. For about a strange, extraordinary month and a handful of days, we had consciously abstained from bickering, taunting, insulting, offending, rowing, conflicting – it had been nothing short of a miracle. Lily Evans and James Potter were getting along: alert the _Prophet_!

But I should've known. I should have _known._ Friends? Who were we trying to kid?

_You're being foolish, Lily, _he'd said. I could hear him in my mind with frightening clarity. _You're so damn stubborn. Can't you see it?_

_I'm not – _I had paused, then, trying to push away all those staring eyes on the platform, and ended up only working myself up further. _You – I – that's not the point! You're supposed to be my friend!_

_I don't want to be your friend!_

It had worked for a while, though. Just friends. We'd sit across from one another at dinner or in the common room and hold a civil conversation. I'd help him with a Charms spell that I could see him struggling with and he, in return, with an impressive attempt at hiding a smirk, would check over my Transfiguration essay. He'd peer over his glasses and press his lips into a thin line, muttering about how Albus would not like to see this, and the next time I wanted to aim for perfection, I could spend a little more time in the library and not gallivanting around with those hooligans that I called friends. I would cover my mouth and try desperately not to laugh, but he would drop the McGonagall act and grin and say, "Looks good, Evans," and I would laugh anyway, because he could be surprisingly tolerable when he wanted to be and so maybe we could get along when we tried.

_Look, Lily, I'm sorry if I misinterpreted things, but this isn't something I can just turn on and off. I can't see you with other blokes and pretend that that's alright with me, that it doesn't bother me._

And all it had taken was an off-handed comment to rile me up. I'm not even sure what it had been; probably something innocent that had hit me the wrong way, something he said that just struck me as off, completely telling of the arse he used to be when really he hadn't meant it that way at all. A simple misunderstanding turned into a row.

Story of our lives.

I kneaded my forehead as I lay back down. A calm summer breeze swept through the open window, dancing across my bare legs and blowing wisps of hair around my face, and though it felt wonderful, I couldn't really appreciate it.

Because what if I'd been wrong? What if he'd, well, been right for once, and we didn't have to just be friends or enemies, but… more?

My knee-jerk reaction was to chide myself for considering it – being _more _with Potter didn't really seem realistic, feasible – and yet the unbidden question rode in on the wind like a phantom, a question he had asked, one I couldn't prevent from shoving itself past my boundaries.

_Why, Lily?_

Why? Why wasn't I willing to at least try? To take a chance – on him, on the apparently immense faith he had that we wouldn't end up killing each other?

_Because it's Potter_, I answered, but my heart gave an involuntary lurch. _Because it's Potter. Because it's James Potter._ I couldn't reconcile the two: logic told me that it was such an irrational, unwise proposal. But then something else, an exponentially growing speck in my heart, whispered _maybe, why not, what if?_

_What if?_

Without even realizing it, I had given him a bar to jump in those few short weeks of fragile friendship, and he'd cleared it. With both of our hackles lowered, I was able to see the person he'd turned into over the past few years. He was kind, and funny, and compassionate, and often mischievous but never with malicious intent, even toward school-yard enemies. I'd found that I liked him – genuinely liked him – as a person. He wasn't that irksome little boy anymore, and I'd realized that it had been unfair of me to hold him up to who he'd been when he was trying to show me how much he'd changed.

Even so, habits aren't easy to kill, and it was Potter, vulnerable and tired and hurt, that took the step that I'd been too uncertain to take. The little skips and hops forward that he had been taking for the past six years all culminated to that one last, single stride; and it hurt, as we shouted about he and I and _us_, that he expected me to cover the distance he had traveled with one enormous, terrifying leap. If anything, I had always taken steps back while he, so easily content, skipped forward slowly, gradually, effortlessly.

But could I, if I wanted to? If he were there at the end, while I took the time to catch up, would it be worth it?

_I'm here, Lily. I've always been right here._

I clenched my fists and pressed them into my eyes. I would not cry. Not again. I pushed myself up and out of bed, careful in navigating the hallway and the stairs in the dark, and shuffled into the kitchen. I turned on the small light above the stove. Crying. Ridiculous. This whole thing was wholly ridiculous, and I shouldn't have these stupid feelings for a stupid boy who was just… stupid.

I was just upset that he had gotten to me so much, that was all.

The light from the refrigerator was brighter than the bleeding sun as I yanked the door open and peered inside, groaning to discover that my strawberries were gone and the only thing remotely appetizing at the moment was a dubious container in the very back that might once have been Shepherd's Pie.

Great.

There was a glass in the drain board next to the sink, so I grabbed that instead and, after a few bleary grabs at the spigot, filled it with tap water. I slumped onto one of the stools near the bar-buffet Mum had installed last summer and listened to the quiet hum of the refrigerator. Just a few more minutes and I'd go back to bed.

"Lil?"

Dorcas Meadowes, who was staying with me for a few days while her parents were moving homes, rubbed the braids out of her hair as she stumbled through the doorway, her pajamas disheveled. At six feet, she was dangerously close to hitting her head on the top of the doorframe, something I hadn't even thought about until she arrived earlier yesterday and Mum, pointing out the obvious, exclaimed, "Why, aren't you tall!"

"What are you doing in here? What time is it?" Dorcas yawned, leaning against the fridge.

"It's almost four." I sat the glass on the counter, tipped my head toward her. "What are _you _doing in here?"

She shook her head, golden waves of hair falling to her waist, and pulled up a stool next to mine. "Someone started snoring and I could hear them through the wall. I would've cast a Silencing Charm, but, you know, _underage_."

I snickered. "I'll set one on Petunia's room tomorrow."

She opened her mouth, then changed her mind and closed it. She traced a line on the countertop. Slowly: "What's got you up?"

"Just couldn't sleep," I hedged. "Not used to being home, you know?"

Dorcas clearly didn't believe me. "Oh?"

"Nightmares," I conceded.

_I'm here, Lily. I've always been right here. Why can't you see that? Why are you so afraid?_

Dorcas' blue, blue eyes softened. Of course she'd know. "You want to talk about it?"

And of course she'd want to talk about it.

Not really, no. I didn't want to talk about it, to open my mouth and let the words come out and put it out there into the universe. I was too indecisive. Did I want it to be true? Did I want to ignore it? Did I want someone else to know about it, and therefore be able to lord it over my head forever? All these possible choices, all because Potter wanted me to make _one. _

The words burst from my lips. "He's just so _frustrating_!"

"Who?" Dorcas asked, even though I knew she knew, and even though she knew that I knew that she knew. She liked to do that—ask questions even though she already knew the answer. _It's important that you say it, _she'd say.

Know-it-all arse.

So I said, "You know who I'm talking about. He is consistently ruins everything. Sorry I lit your Potions essay on fire, Evans! Sorry I lit a dungbomb in your school bag, Evans! Sorry I spilled my pumpkin juice all over you, Evans! Sorry I like you as more than a friend, Evans!"

"Besides that last one, all those things happened in third year, Lily."

"Well, they happened. And that doesn't make him any less frustrating. What am I supposed to say to him?"

"About what?"

"About – you know – about yesterday. About all those things he said. How do I let him down in a way that he won't hate me after?"

Dorcas pursed her lips and gave me a look. "You really want to let him down?"

"Yes?"

She held her stare.

I sighed and put my head on the counter, unwilling to face her as I said miserably, "No."

Her hand brushed my hair from my shoulder. "Then you should probably tell him."

"Tell him what," I said. "Tell him he's a frustrating arse? Gladly. Might even ring him on the Floo for that. 'Oh, Mrs. Potter! Is your son home? No? Could you tell him he's a frustrating arse? Thanks.' That'd be – "

"Lily."

I groaned. Diversion wouldn't work here. Neither would denial. Neither would getting up and walking away, because I was at home and not at Hogwarts, and there weren't endless hidey-holes to find here. I'd have to say it. So I closed my eyes and pretended it wasn't going to be the worst possible thing to ever come out of my mouth.

"I fancy James."

The room was quiet. Nothing exploded. And I realized that his name on my lips felt like… something. Something new. I had said it before, of course, in jest and in anger, but never, ever after the words _I _and _fancy_. Never so soft, so deliberate. Truthfully, it was kind of nice. James. I could picture him smiling, his stupid hair like an explosion and his long stupid nose and the stupid little freckle on his temple and the dimples that showed themselves only when the corners of his mouth pulled up in that full, stupid way. It was almost endearing, and I found myself smiling a little in return as the image floated into my head like a suppressed memory, something I had hidden from myself when I knew I'd need it someday.

Dorcas rubbed her hand back and forth across my back. "See? You're alright."

And then I was laughing, a hysterical feeling bubbling up in my chest as I sat up and looked at her. I fancied James Potter. I fancied _James Potter_. Dorcas was bewildered but going with it, not complaining or questioning when I grabbed her up and squeezed my arms around her waist, burying my face in her neck and shaking with mirth and disbelief. She pulled me close to her and we sat there in the kitchen at four o'clock in the morning, the chimes of the grandfather clock down the hall ringing in the hour and the echo of snoring coming from up the stairs.

"I fancy James," I whispered. "What is wrong with me?"

"Well, we've always known you were crazy," Dorcas said. And then she laughed, too. "Wait until James finds out."

_I'm here, Lily. I've always been right here._


	3. Morningside

_A/N: Ugh. I'm not entirely happy with this, but I do hope you all enjoy it! I'm going to get out of this introspective thing soon, I promise, and we'll get to hear of/see more of James in a chapter or two. These first three chapters were necessary to explain Lily's view of everything - I can only throw James into her path when she's (kind of?) ready to handle it! I can also promise that there will be some action coming up in the next two or three chapters - which will definitely be a lot longer - as well as a visit with a parent, some magic, a death (or two), Death Eaters, and... maybe a kiss. Or something along those lines ;)_

_Many, many thanks to my wonderful readers, reviewers, and my beta Zayz._

_Please enjoy; please review! _

_As always,  
Mina_

* * *

**THREE: MORNINGSIDE**

* * *

What woke me up the second time that morning wasn't a heartbroken voice bouncing against the corners of my mind or the increasingly loud argument about bridal dresses seeping up through my bedroom floor — it was the godly scent of my mother's pancakes wafting in from the crack underneath my door. I turned onto my back to face the ceiling, slowly opening my eyes to welcome the too cheery, mid-morning sun, and stretched until my joints popped. The rotation of the ceiling fan held my attention for a few languid moments before, inevitably, my grumbling stomach made me get out of bed.

For the second time that morning, I padded down the stairs in my pajamas. Mum was in the kitchen flipping pancakes on the stove, humming to the song on the radio that was doing nothing to hide my sister's loud voice echoing throughout the house. Mum smiled at me as I walked in. "Good morning, my beautiful, _quiet_ daughter."

"Morning, Mum," I said. I sat on my confession stool at the bar and put my elbows on the counter. Someone –one of Petunia's more obnoxious friends— shouted something about yellow organza from the living room. Mum and I ignored it. "Breakfast smells amazing."

"As it should!" She passed me a glass of orange juice. "Sleep well?"

"I didn't sleep_ terribly_," I said. I decided not to dwell on the _thing _with Potter –I didn't have to see him until September, so why fret about it?— and instead enjoy my days at home. With Mum and Petunia.

"We're glad you're here."

I dug into the plate as soon as it was placed in front of me. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, a roll – it wasn't Hogwarts, no, but it was Mum's cooking, and it was delicious. She filled me in on what the neighbors were up to, what kind of flowers she'd placed on Dad's gravestone this month, what was going on at work and what book she was reading and what she thought of Petunia's wedding plans. Mostly I watched her face as she spoke, enamored with the lines at the corners of her icy blue eyes, the way a stray piece of strawberry blonde hair kept falling in her face. She asked me about my last few days of my sixth year and I told her about the classes and packing up our dorm and how one of my crazy dorm-mates, Siobhan, had clothes strewn in just about every part of Gryffindor Tower.

"She's a lunatic," I told her.

"I do wonder why you've never invited any of your friends over," she said, taking a sip of my juice. "Dorcas is lovely, though. I'm happy to have her here for a few days."

"She's wonderful," I agreed. Then, "We want to go to Diagon Alley in a day or two, just to shop around and maybe meet up with Siobhan for lunch. Would that be okay?"

She laughed. "You can do whatever you please, honey. All I ask of you this summer is that you stay safe and don't fight with your sister."

I thought of all the things that were going on in the wizarding world – all the things my mother was luckily oblivious of – and almost let myself laugh. It was hard to decide which would be more difficult.

"This is exhausting," Petunia said, walking into the kitchen. She was already fully dressed, her clothes without wrinkles, her hair pulled back from her face. She spared me the smallest smile before helping herself to a strawberry off of my plate. "Wedding planning is truly a job. It wouldn't be so tiring if I wasn't such a perfectionist."

"Aren't they helping you in there?" Mum asked. "Do you need me to do anything?"

"Dorcas and I could help," I offered, knowing fully well she'd turn us down. "You know, pick out color swatches, charm some special flower hybrids, the works."

Her spine stiffened, but her reply was neutral. "No, thank you. We have it under control."

"You let us know," Mum said, patting Petunia's hand. Petunia nodded and walked back into the living room with her friends.

Mum shrugged at me. "You get credit for trying."

**_- QS -_**

There was something about that first summer evening that was so completely cathartic. The sun turned everything golden; the grass reached through my bare toes and tangled in my hair; my lips tasted of strawberries and bananas, mangos and cantaloupes; the neighborhood rang with the laughter of children running through sprinklers and playing games in the street. My sister's pitchy laugh reverberated through the airy rooms of our home, spilling out of the windows and onto our bright, trimmed lawn. My mother worked in her garden, the dirt ever present under her fingernails and on the knees of her light khaki capris, the scent of her beloved flowers following her wherever she walked. I dozed next to Dorcas under the blanket of the wide blue sky, the breeze like a kiss on my forehead, like a hand in my own.

"When do you think you're going to talk to him?" Dorcas asked, tossing a clump of grass at me. She was sprawled on the lawn right next to me, looking up at the sky, clad in a pretty lavender summer dress and her hair in her two long, familiar braids.

I brushed the grass off of my tank top and cut-off shorts. "I'd rather not any time soon," I said, watching a cloud drift across the falling sun. It was shaped like an obese dragon, its mouth wide and its tongue lolling, almost as if it were welcoming the sun like it was candy –

"Lily."

– and it made me laugh to think about Hagrid and how he'd take up the cloud dragon in a heartbeat, how he'd go out there in the fields and wait for falling stars to feed it –

"If you don't stop staring at that cloud and look at me, I'm going to go up to your room and send an owl to James myself, detailing how you so ardently professed your love to him after you broke his heart into tiny little pieces. Try me."

– and how I would _so ardently _kill my best mate and send the _tiny little pieces_ of her body back to her parents in a box labeled _Love, Lily_. I glared at her. "I did not profess love to Potter, you cow."

"Maybe not, but who's to say that's not farther down the road?"

Embarrassment burned roses into my cheeks. In love with Potter. Right. Even if, in some twisted universe where I'd lost my mind, that's what I wanted, he still probably hated me. Dorcas didn't understand. It felt like it had been just Potter and I, standing there on the platform, shouting at one another; it felt like I was the only one who could comprehend the look on his face, the fire in his eyes. It was a slap in the face, an unsuspected betrayal, when he turned his back and walked away, leaving me crying to myself over the things he had kept himself from saying for years. The most frightening thing, though, was that I had heard every word he had said. I had started to listen.

And now all I was hearing was silence.

I didn't know how to fix it. And I guessed that, yes, I did want to fix it. When I thought about going back to Hogwarts after the summer was over – a time that seemed so far from now – and seeing that face, that stiff set to his shoulders, my heart gave a little hiccup. I didn't think I'd be able to go back to how it used to be, not when I now had an idea of who he really was, not when I was finally starting think about what it'd be like to have more. I didn't _ardently love_ Potter, but I fancied him, and I cared about fixing things between us, so that was a start, right?

"Look." I picked at the frayed hem of my shorts and made myself say the words. "I don't – God, I don't _love_ Potter. I don't know if I ever _will_ love Potter. Right now I kind of fancy the thought of him, I guess, and I don't know if it's just because I feel guilty for what I said to him or because the person he's turned into is actually quite… decent. It's just – Dorcas, you didn't see his face… I think I really messed up this time, and it frightens me, because I've never worried if I've _messed up_ with Potter." I moaned. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

The look on her face was unbearably soft. I turned my gaze instead to the sky. "He'll forgive you," she said. "You know James, he can't stay mad at you for longer than a week. You're the only woman for him, remember?"

My laugh sounded strangled. A memory I had tried to repress poked at my brain: in fourth year, Potter had stood up in the middle of the Great Hall during dinner and declared in a booming voice, "You are the only woman for me, Lily Evans! The only one that I will ever need!" Needless to say, my hatred only grew that much stronger while his advances grew more persistent.

"I hate you," I mumbled.

"Only because I'm telling you the truth," she said, and I turned my head in time to see her twirling a stalk of my mother's hyacinths between her fingers. "But listen, you don't have to see him or hear him or have anything to do with him until September. That's two months. By then I think you'll be sane and, you know, maybe you can ask him to Hogsmeade or something."

"He'll say no. After all that I said to him, Dorcas, he'll absolutely detest me." I started ripping up handfuls of grass, anxious at the mere thought of summoning the nerve to ask after all I'd said yesterday.

She sat up so she could look at me fully. "You're being entirely too dramatic."

"Maybe so," I mumbled. "But you don't know how he feels."

"And neither do you. It's James. It's _James._ Need I remind you of all the things he's tried to win you over?"

"I don't think I want to talk about this any –"

I didn't have the chance to tell her just how much I wanted to stop talking about Potter and talk about something – anything – else, because at that precise moment, a shout of surprise came from somewhere down the road. Curious, Dorcas and I sat up as an enormous black dog leapt over Mr. Grady's fence, its tongue hanging out of its mouth and a manic look in its light eyes, running straight for us.

Dorcas got to her feet just as the dog skidded to a stop in front of me. I squealed as it stuck its huge, muddy paws on my bare legs and leaned in to lick my face – jaw to forehead – with its disgustingly sloppy tongue. It felt like a slug had crawled across my cheek. I pushed the dog off of me, trying not to gag.

"I think I love this guy," Dorcas managed to say through her laughter, kneeling to pet the dog as I wiped off of my face. I didn't know what to do with my spitty hand, so I used what I had: Dorcas' shirt.

The dog's bark sounded like laughter as Dorcas whined, pulling at the slimed sleeve of her shirt. Sitting back, the dog stared at the two of us, cocking its head to the side. Its fur was long and as black as licorice, and its eyes, bright and silver, seemed to gleam like diamonds. I frowned. Now that I looked at it…

"Uh, Dorcas," I said slowly, crossing my legs and leaning forward. The dog's mouth opened into a scarily human-like grin. "Isn't this Potter's dog?"

She stopped tugging at her shirt. "The one that he brought to Diagon Alley in fifth year," she said after a pause.

The dog barked. And then a familiar voice that weighed my jaw down in surprise called out, "Lily! Dorcas!"

* * *

_A/N: Totally not that easy, readers ;)_


	4. Liliaceae

_A/N: Here we are! I just want to preface this a bit by saying that I will not be ignoring Peter, and I will not be writing him as a stupid, useless rat. He was a Marauder, and I will treat him as such. Other than that, I hope you like this chapter! Especially the end segment, because that was completely a last-minute decision; I was going to end it with the second one, but... you guys are awesome. So! Enough of my rambling. An enormous, loving thank you to all my readers and reviewers and my supportive beta Zayz, and to Viv, who is just fantastic. _

_Please read; please review!  
As always,  
Mina :)_

* * *

**FOUR: LILIACEAE**

* * *

"_Peter_?"

He was out of breath when he jogged up to us. A slight sheen of sweat shone on his forehead and his green t-shirt stuck to his stomach. The falling sun caught the gold in his hair as he doubled over, panting and grabbing his knees.

I was motionless in surprise. _Peter?_

"Stand up so you can breathe," Dorcas said, moving to him. The height difference between them was comical: Amazonian Dorcas and small, stout Peter. She rubbed slow circles on his back as he struggled for air. "You crunch up your diaphragm when you bend over like that."

The dog was bigger than what you'd expect a normal dog to be, with soft, inky black fur and bright silver eyes. It lay down with its head on my knee, and my hand automatically went to pet its head as Peter unfolded himself, clinging to Dorcas' arm.

"I don't – know what that – means," Peter gasped.

Dorcas shook her head, hiding an amused eye-roll. "It means that you breathe better when you stand up straight."

"What are you _doing _here?" I finally asked when the surprise released its hold on my mouth. It was so strange to see Peter, of all people, at my house. And if this _was _Potter's dog, I thought, my hand still petting his head, did that mean Potter was around? Did he come to finish our row? To tell me he never wanted to speak to me ever again?

With sudden anxiety, my next question came out in a rush. "Are you alone?"

Dorcas raised an eyebrow, but Peter just shook his head, oblivious. "No? I mean, yes! Yes. It's just me and him. Snuffles. My dog. We, ah, we were in the neighborhood. I didn't know you lived over here. I live a ways that way," he rambled, pointing in a vague direction across the street. "Funny, really, how close we live. My house and your house. Yes."

Snuffles buried his muzzle underneath his paw.

We were quiet then, Peter's hoarse breathing mingling with the gradual introduction of cricket song as the sky turned a rainbow of colors, the sun sinking lower into the sky. I pulled my wand from the bun in my hair, hoping nobody would happen to look out of their windows, and conjured Peter a glass of water from the kitchen. Snuffles had my leg captive, so I had to levitate the glass across the few feet of glass separating me from Peter.

The poor kid drained it in a few seconds. He smiled sheepishly, held it out to me, and I banished it back to the kitchen.

"Thanks, Lily."

Dorcas sat down again, satisfied that Peter was not going to pass out, and bumped into me with her shoulder. The look she gave me conveyed our shared relief that Peter was, indeed, alone, and our confusion that Peter was here, alone, in the first place.

"So," she said, motioning to Snuffles. The awkwardness was painful. "This one's a rascal, then?"

"Yeah." Peter glared at the dog. "Stupid prat. Got away from me just as I turned the corner."

Snuffles gave an indignant bark.

I laughed, scratching him behind the ears. He spun onto his back and I bent down to rub the soft fur on his neck. "Don't give him such a hard time," I mock-whispered to him, doubting my sanity only a second for talking to a dog. "Peter's such a little thing."

Peter sighed, allowing that, then flopped to the ground in front of Dorcas and I. His attempt to settle was a bit alarming; Peter and I have never been close –I've always steadfastly avoided the Marauders, save for Remus, and though Peter is a nice guy, we've never exactly had a real conversation before – so to see him make himself comfortable like he was actually about to try to talk with Dorcas and I was disconcerting. What on earth would we have in common besides school? He had to be here to talk about Potter.

"I'm supposed to talk to you," he said without segue. He glanced at Snuffles, who went still under my hand, before stumbling on. "I-I mean, it's not like anybody making me talk to you. I like you guys. We're friends."

It sounded like a question. _We're friends?_ I wanted to laugh at the heavy discomfort in the air, but Dorcas pinched the skin on my wrist and nodded, smiling reassuringly. "Of course we're friends, Peter."

His eyes brightened. "I, uh, well. I don't know how to say this. It's… Remus was going to come, but he got sick, and –"

I felt a low growl underneath my palm and looked down to see Snuffles bearing his teeth at Peter. I frowned at the dog's sudden display of hostility and watched, bewildered, as Peter put up his hands, shaking his head frantically and trying to backtrack. "No, Remus is at home, you know, for the summer. With his mother. Who is sick. I was walking _Snuffles _because I live close, right over there, and, uh, I thought I would come talk to you. About yesterday? If that's okay?"

I sat back, leaning on my hands, and stared at Peter. _Potter can't have sent Peter to come talk to me. It seems incredibly unlike him – and why would he send _Peter, _of all people? Unless Peter's telling the truth, and he just wanted to talk to me on his own? But when has Peter ever talked to me because he wanted to?_

Dorcas must've been thinking along the same lines, because she said, simply, "What?"

"I was worried," Peter said, slowly, as if concentrating on what he was supposed to be saying. I raised an eyebrow at him. He started ripping up blades of grass and Snuffles, discontent with not being paid any attention, swaggered to Peter's side and sat like a sentinel. He nudged Peter's face with his muzzle and Peter continued, avoiding our eyes. "Because you looked… _upset _yesterday, and I wanted to see if you were, you know, okay."

"I'm fine…" I said. "Um, thank you, though, Peter. It's very kind of you to ask."

This whole situation was too surreal. I looked around, waiting for somebody to jump out of the bushes and shout, "Gotcha!" But it was just Peter, Dorcas, and I, sitting on my front lawn with a strange guard-dog watching us with those eerily sentient eyes. I was distracted momentarily by the porch light flicking on, and only then did I realize that the sun was sliding behind the trees and twilight was upon us. It was almost able to hide the blush spreading across Peter's pale cheeks.

My suspicion forced its question: "Did Potter make you come and talk to me?"

Again, he glanced at Snuffles before answering, "No. I was worried about you. I've never seen you cry before."

"Ah," I said. And then, because it was quiet, because Potter's voice was whispering _Why, Lily?_ in my head with the rising shadows, because sometimes my mouth had no censor: "Is he, um, okay?"

Snuffles' head cocked to the side. I would've sworn his silvery eyes narrowed the slightest bit.

Disconcerted, I looked to Peter, who glanced between Dorcas and I, at the pile of shredded grass in his lap, then sighed. "H-He's doing okay. He was a little upset at first, but it's James. He bounces back fast." He shrugged. "At least, that's what Remus said."

We turned as one at the sound of the front door opening. Light spilled onto the porch and my mother scanned the yard to make sure Dorcas and I hadn't run away or something.

"Lily," she called out, skipping down the porch steps. "I burnt dinner past repair, so I'm just going to ring for take-out." She made it halfway down the walk before noticing the extra person on the yard and gasped a small, "Oh!"

I stood up, brushing the grass from my shorts, and motioned to Peter. "Mum, this is Peter Pettigrew. He's a Gryffindor in my year. He was just passing through the neighborhood and wanted to say hello. Peter, this is my mother."

Peter stumbled to his feet and grasped my mother's hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Evans."

She chuckled, giving him a kind smile. "And you as well, Peter. Would you like to stay for dinner? We were going to have a roast, but I got distracted in a book and left it in the oven for far too long, I'm afraid. You're welcome to stay, if you'd like."

Dorcas, who'd gotten to her feet, threw me an alarmed glance. Petunia hadn't taken well to Dorcas at all when she arrived yesterday, and I could only imagine how she'd react to bumbling Peter, whose magic – and mouth – oftentimes fell out of his control. More than that, though, I was afraid of her hurting his feelings and insulting what little pride he did have. I subtly shook my head at Mum, trying to warn her with my eyes. _Not a good idea, Mum. Not a good idea. Not a good idea._

Thankfully, Snuffles had clamped his teeth into the hem of Peter's long shorts and started tugging him towards the road.

Peter huffed, pushing the dog off. "A-apologies, Mrs. Evans. I have to get home. My mum is actually making dinner and she n-needs my help. She's, ah, she's kind of sick."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mum said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Maybe another time, huh?"

Peter looked staggered as he gently disengaged himself. "Y-yes, maybe another time. Thanks. Bye Lily, Dorcas. Mrs. Evans."

He started off down the walk. I followed Mum and Dorcas as they started inside, but was stopped at the first stair when Snuffles barked and gently nipped at my fingertips.

I turned to see him sitting at my feet, peering up at me with that silly, questioning tilt to his head. Feeling ridiculous, I knelt down and ruffled the fur on his neck. "Be nice to Peter," I told him.

He licked my face in response; I took that as an acquiesce, but as he pranced after Peter, I had the suspicion that the rapid wag of his tail was far too devious.

"Barmy mutt," I mumbled to myself, gripping the railing as I jumped the stairs. I was pulling open the door when there was another nip at my fingers.

When I turned this time, Snuffles nuzzled his nose into my palm before barking softly and sprinting off after Peter like a small, black bullet. I stood there, alone, twilight fading to night around the bright lights of my home, and had no explanation for the sudden rush of emotion in my heart. Because somehow, from an animal that seemed too damn intelligent for its own good, that simple gesture felt like an apology.

"Lily?"

I shook my head clear. No more whispers. Not tonight.

"Coming, Mum."

**_-QS-_**

"Well, today was interesting."

"Yeah."

Dorcas tossed a pillow at me. "_Yeah_. Peter's not a good liar."

I pulled my head through my nightshirt and stared at her. "You really think it was Potter's idea?"

"I don't think it was Peter's," she stressed, sitting on my bed and brushing out her hair. "I've never known Peter to take any account of how you're feeling. It was just odd."

"Yeah."

"I'm not saying James didn't have a hand in it, but then it doesn't seem like something James would do," she said. Then, frowning, "Unless it was Sirius or Remus, but I don't think they'd go behind his back like that, do you?"

"No."

Sitting her brush down, she sighed, obviously exasperated with my preoccupation, and pulled her journal and quill onto her lap. I knew I'd get a few minutes alone then, and as I tugged a pair of pajama shorts on, I eyed my small owl, Diana, sleeping on her perch in the corner of my room. _I should send a message. I should._

Brave Lily Evans would, but it seemed like I had left her behind in a castle fortress of magic and was now the little girl who could fly off swing sets only sometimes, who walked around with bruised knees and scratched elbows. Even she had been daring, but I was too afraid to fall, now. At seventeen years old, I knew how hard I could fall if I jumped, how there wouldn't be any magic to float me gently to the ground.

_He's doing okay. He was a little upset at first, but it's James. He bounces back fast. At least, that's what Remus said. _

I didn't know what to make of it. Remus would make it sound nicer than it actually was, and I couldn't rely on his vague courteousness. I kicked myself for not asking more probing questions, but what was I supposed to have said? _Hey, Peter, I fancy your best mate; care to go back home and owl him about it? _No. If anybody was going to tell him, it had to be me. Eventually. Maybe.

I sat down at my desk. There was a stack of parchment already there from my last Christmas holiday, when I sat here to write Dorcas and Siobhan letters, organizing get-togethers and inquiring about their holidays. Picking up a chewed-on muggle pen, I stared out of the window above my desk at the pale sliver of moon and wondered how I should even start.

_How does one go about groveling for forgiveness?_

"The beginning's always a good place to, you know, _begin_," Dorcas whispered. When I turned around to glower at her, she had her nose glued to her journal, her quill flying across the page.

I turned my back to her and started biting the end of my pen. "Could you not do that?"

"It's not my fault you're easy to read."

"It's not my fault I spend entirely too much time with you," I mumbled.

She didn't respond, and I took her silence to mean, _Get to work._

I sat there for a while. A long, long while. Mum came in to bid us goodnight; Petunia stomped up the stairs and shouted that we needed to turn our profane, God-forsaken freak music down, though I could barely hear the song on the wireless, crooning about lost loves and broomstick flights above the clouds; and Dorcas finished writing in her journal and was now laying on my bed, reading the _Prophet_.

No. Nope. I couldn't do it. I hadn't even attempted to put the pen to paper – maybe that was the problem, trying to put a muggle instrument to wizarding parchment. I got up to dig through my yet-unpacked trunk for a quill when a modest, ruby-colored one flew across the room and landed in front of me.

I inhaled and closed my eyes. "You are getting on my nerves."

Dorcas laughed. "I'm going to bed, I'm knackered. You better write him tonight, Lily. Just write something. Write how you feel. And don't think I won't check with him tomorrow, because I will. Night!"

She closed the door behind me, and I was alone.

I scratched at my freckled legs as I sat back down. Diana made cute snoring-hooting noises on her perch, and I almost abandoned the whole idea so I wouldn't have to wake the poor thing up. She was a tiny, chocolate Pygmy owl, given to me for my twelfth birthday when Mum found out I was the only girl in my dorm without her own pet. She was a precious thing, always going on missions without complaint, preening when I gave her treats and flying around happily when I snuck her outside between classes.

"Why is this so hard?" I muttered to myself, burying my face in my hands. I shivered as a burst of wind shot through my window, bringing goosebumps to my arms and that stupid, stupid voice to my ears.

_Why are you so afraid, Lily?_

_Because you scare me, _I thought. _Because you make me feel weak, like I'm just another victim of your charms. Because Dorcas can see through me. Because Severus hates you, and because now he will hate me even more. Because Siobhan will think I'm insane. Because I hate the look I put in your eyes, and because I don't know how to make it go away. Because I want to make it go away in the first place. Because this is new. Because you're there. Because you mean it._

_Why can't you open your eyes, Lily?_

Gripping Dorcas' quill, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and wrote:

_James,  
I'm sorry for lying when you asked me if things were still the same, I'm sorry for denying that I cared, and I'm sorry for not going after you when you walked away. I'm sorry that I'm afraid of you. I'm so, so sorry, and I just wanted you to know that you hadn't misinterpreted anything. I can see now.  
Lily_

And that was the extent of my courage. Maybe it was just enough for one last try. Maybe it would fix everything; then again, maybe it'd fix nothing, and it was far, far too late. Maybe I'd already done too much damage. Maybe he'd been too hurt to give me another chance. Maybe.

I planted a feather-light kiss on Diana's tiny head to wake her. She peered up at me, ruffling her feathers, and held out her foot obediently. I hesitated only a second, encouraged by the light in her gold eyes, before tying the parchment to her little leg and opening the window so she could carry away my confessions.

She hadn't come back when I fell asleep, hours later.

**_-QS-_**

"Lily! Wake up! Siobhan owled me this morning; she wants us to meet her at Florean's around four."

I felt like a sloth. I probably looked like one, too, when Dorcas pulled me out of bed and shoved me towards my dresser. My hair fell past my shoulders in tangled, chaotic waves, my eyes were hazy with sleep, and my clothes were rumpled and falling off their assigned body parts. I was so grateful that this mirror, at least, couldn't spew insults at me this morning.

"What time is it?" I grumbled, turning away so I wouldn't have to look at myself.

"Eleven."

Dorcas was nearly vibrating with excited curiosity as she perched on the edge of my bed. Her energy in the morning was unnatural and annoying and I moved around her, dragging a brush through my hair and twisting my wand into a sloppy bun at the back of my head. I would jump in the shower later, after some coffee hit my system. A few cups should take me from dead to merely tired, and maybe then I'd be able to deal with her.

But she was resistant to my grumpiness. "So you _did_ send him a letter?"

It took a moment, while my brain woke up, to realize that Diana was not sitting on her perch. He'd kept her overnight? What did that _mean_? Lack of sleep made me irritated and just a bit more than annoyed, and I sunk onto the bed beside Dorcas, wringing my hands in my lap. What did that mean? Couldn't he have just sent his answer back yesterday?

"Diana's not back yet," I grumbled.

"I didn't think you'd go through with it."

"I did." I shrugged away from her when she tried to slide an arm around my shoulder. "What does it mean that she's not back?"

"She was hit by an airplane?"

"That is not funny."

"I don't know what it means, Lily. Maybe he's undecided, too. I can't pretend to know what's going through his mind," she said. After a pause, she stood up and took my hand. "Come on, let's go get you some caffeine. The kitchen's clear. Petunia went to Vernon's house already; apparently Marjorie's there to help her work on bridal plans or something."

"Have you been eavesdropping?" I asked her as we trudged down the stairs.

We entered the kitchen and I went straight for the pot of coffee. As I poured us two cups, Dorcas sat on the barstool and rolled her eyes. "You know she'd never talk to me voluntarily."

"I'm sorry if she's been vile to you," I said, handing her a mug. I poured creamer and sugar in mine, and she snatched the honey before I could get to it. The smell alone kept me from hexing her across the room. "She's – _give it!_ – I won't excuse her behavior, but I think she's still sore about not getting a Hogwarts letter."

Dorcas nodded. I'd told her the story years ago, when the sting of Petunia's anger and jealously was still fresh. Since then, it was like Petunia had faded into a stranger while Dorcas gradually took her place. Instead of having a sister I was born with, I had a sister I chose, a sister who had been there for me, who proved herself closer than blood. I smiled at her, feeling the coffee working its magic already, just as my Mum came walking into the room on her lunch break.

She was also carrying a chocolate brown owl.

"Diana!" My heart picked up speed as I reached for her, letting her perch on my shoulder.

"She flew in just as you two came downstairs," Mum said, laughing, as she hooted softly in my ear.

Dorcas raised her eyebrows at me, sipping at her coffee. _Well? _her expression asked. I knew her well enough to know that she was just as anxious as I was behind that calm façade.

Mum gave me a mischievous smile as she pulled something from behind her back. I reached for it with a trembling hand.

It was a single white tulip, a ribbon the color of emeralds tied around its stem.

I could barely make out words. It had to be his response. It had to be. "Was there a letter?"

Mum kissed me on the forehead. "No letter. I have to get back to work before Smithley calls the boss again," she said, winking. She waved goodbye to Dorcas and was almost out of the house when she shouted over her shoulder, "Behave yourselves today!"

I murmured assurances to the closed door. I couldn't stop staring at the flower. Its petals were too soft, whiter than my legs in the winter, and I rubbed my fingers across them as I sat down next to Dorcas, my coffee forgotten. He couldn't be angry, if he had sent me a flower. But what did it mean that he didn't send a note? I didn't think it had gotten lost on the way, if he had sent one, because Diana would've let me know somehow. And it felt like this was a message on its own, with the green ribbon that was more beautiful than silk. A simple flower. A simple message.

_I am not good at this caring thing_, I thought, twisting the ribbon around the stem. Then, hesitantly, slowly, as if I didn't want to think it: _He's doing this to me on purpose._

"Lily," Dorcas gasped. Her mug hit the counter with a _thunk!_ "Have you studied flower meanings?"

Her suddenness forced my gaze from the flower. I couldn't read the look on her face. "Mum does. What do you – does this mean something?"

"White tulips," she whispered, "signify forgiveness."

It took me a long moment to remember how to breathe.


	5. Meetings

_A/N: Chapter fiiiive! Thank you all so, so much for your reviews and alerts: I cannot say it enough! Big, huge thanks to my devious beta Zayz, who helped wonderfully with this, and another thanks to everybody for kindly not killing me when the chapter is over. I'm just going to apologize in advance..._

_As always!  
Mina ;)_

* * *

**FIVE: MEETINGS**

* * *

"Well, that's… well."

Dorcas laughed quietly. "Yeah."

I placed the flower on the counter. We stared at it.

"So what'd you _say_?"

"I told him I was sorry." I sat on the barstool next to her and had to pick up my coffee, simply for something to do with my hands. "I, uh, told him he hadn't misunderstood anything."

I could see her nodding out of the corner of my eye. "Right," she said. "This is a good sign, then."

"Mmm."

"Right?"

"Um."

I think I was in shock. I'd built myself up to believe that he was going to deny me, that all the things I had said on the platform had been utterly irreprehensible; I'd done so much lying – to him and to myself – that this easy forgiveness was stunning. Peter or Remus or _somebody_ had said that he bounced back fast, but I never thought…

Dorcas turned me towards her. "Stop doing that. This is good."

"I'm not doing anything," I snapped, pulling away from her so I could pour my coffee down the sink. It had lost its taste – too creamy or too black or too something. It swirled down the drain in a tiny tornado and I rinsed the residue out of the mug, setting it on the counter.

_Was_ this good?

"You know what you're doing. You fancy James, and now, when James might still fancy you, you shut down because you don't know what to do about it," she said. "I've known you for six years, Lily. I think I know you well enough to read your face."

And that was the bad thing about having a friend like Dorcas Meadowes. I had nowhere to hide, not even inside my own head.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Diana turn delicate circles in the air, and tried to hold on to my mind. It was only the second day of the summer holiday, and already James Potter was driving me crazy.

_**-QS-**_

As it turned out, the forecast – to spite me, I'm sure – was clear and bright and oh-what-a-sunshiny-day. I had tried to drown my confusing uncertainty in the shower, but only came out with a mess of feelings that, unfortunately, the steam couldn't lift from my skin.

Even with the beautiful day I still couldn't settle my thoughts. Dorcas and I were sitting on the patio of Florean Fortiscue's, surrounded by hanging baskets of flowers and planted shrubs that changed shapes. We'd gotten here about ten minutes ago, claiming a table for ourselves, and went to buy our ice cream as we waited for Siobhan, but Dorcas could tell I wasn't fit for conversation and left me to myself as she watched the busy Diagon Alley crowd walk by.

I didn't know what to feel. One day. One _day _had passed since Hogwarts let out for the summer, one full day since that stupid fight on the platform. I'd never been the kind of person to dwell on things like this. Boyfriend problems, wondering if so-and-so liked me or whether I could be arsed to ask some other guy out or if I should date what's-his-face – that kind of stuff was never important before. But now my mind would not move the hell on, and I knew that this _thing_ was not going to go away. Not until I saw him again.

The crux: did I want that to be sooner or later?

What would I say to him if I did see him soon? The key was _if_ – our summers were always spent completely separate from one another – so it wouldn't be like I had anything to base conversation off of. Small talk would probably consist of the weather and summer plans, and perhaps broken hearts, if we were feeling daring. And it'd be _weird _to see him in the summer, outside of the common room or the Great Hall, walking around without a stack of books in his arms or ink stains on his hands or his tie hanging loose around his neck with the top two buttons of his shirt undone…

"Your ice cream is dripping all over your hand."

I shook myself out of outrageous visions of Potter's tanned forearms to the feel slow drops of vanilla ice cream melting out of my cone like an overflowing volcano. I grimaced, passing the cone to Dorcas so I could wipe my hand off.

"Sorry," I said, pulling my wand from my belt loop to cast a quick cleaning charm on my hand.

Usually I would've kept it twisted in my hair, but today I'd taken the ribbon that had been tied onto the tulip and used it like a headband, keeping the hair out of my face and falling past my shoulders in waves. I'd gotten the idea when I had jumped out of the shower and saw the flower sitting on my dresser, staring at me. Dorcas only smiled when she saw it. I had been embarrassed at first, but for some reason, the fact that I was carrying something of his, even if it was only a ribbon, and even if I was being crazy, was calming.

And if I was going to entertain silly, ridiculous ideas about Potter, then I was going to go full out.

Dorcas leaned back in her chair and looked around the busy Diagon Alley street. "I wonder where she is."

"You should know better than to think she'd be on time," I laughed, finishing off my ice cream.

"She's the one who wanted us to meet her here," Dorcas said. She twisted her spoon in her bowl. She hated when people were late, due mostly to her tendency to always be on time, no matter what. "I wonder what the urgency was."

I started aimlessly folding a napkin. "It's hard to tell with her," I said.

We heard her before we saw her – which I should've expected, really, as the girl's mouth was bigger than her body and her personality larger than Hogwarts itself. As the door to Florean's swung open, a small _smack! _snuck underneath the massive tide of voices on the street and swam right up to our table, prefacing the furious tsunami of a large, "_Fuck you, Mel!"_

Dorcas and I glanced at one another in horror.

Half the street turned and stared as petite Siobhan stormed out of the parlour, a half-eaten ice cream cone in one hand and a tree's worth of napkins in the other.

I almost didn't recognize her save for the familiar mask of fury on her face, her round lips locked into a line thinner than Spellotape, her pierced brows almost joining in the middle of her forehead. She was dressed in her standard ripped-up jeans and black band t-shirt, but the most shocking thing was her hair: usually curly, black, and voluminous, the only thing I had ever envied her, it was now hacked off to her jaw and had been dyed a shocking platinum.

Dorcas covered her eyes as Siobhan caught sight of us. "Oh my God."

I sat slack-jawed.

"You will never believe what just happened," Siobhan shouted as she marched to our table. People who hadn't yet stopped watching stepped out of her way, and as she yanked a chair out for herself and sat with a huff, I couldn't take my eyes off of her shorn hair. It was spiky and rough and almost silver in places. It looked odd against her olive skin. Had there been a mistake? Why, _why _would she have cut all her hair off?

"What did you _do_?" I whispered, shaking my head in wonder.

She tossed her hands up in the air. Her ice cream went flying somewhere into the crowd and her napkins took flight, fluttering slowly to the ground as I imagine her sanity had. "I just broke up with Mel, for one," she growled, nostrils flaring. "Can you be_lieve _that jackass? Merlin protect him, because I will be going after his ass."

"Siobhan," said Dorcas, glancing around at the passersby who were finally going about their business. "You have seriously got to watch your mouth."

"Don't talk to me," she growled, then, turning to me, her kohl-rimmed eyes on fire, "Lily, I could just kill him. _Murder _him. Avada right in the chest. _Pew!_"

I pushed my chair away from her. "What is wrong with you? What in the world did he do?"

"He was with Nella last night! Nella Burke, that loose skank from Slytherin that had the nerve to row with me last year! I am beyond enraged," she said, sinking further into her chair. She ran her hands through her short hair and looked at Dorcas. "Did you know what else he did yesterday?"

Dorcas gave me a wary glance before hazarding, "Kill your puppy?"

Siobhan held up her left hand. "He asked me to marry him."

"No, he didn't," I gasped. I stared at her bare left hand and the answers fell into place. "And you told him no?"

"I told him yes. I told that stupid bastard yes, because for some reason I thought I loved him. And then today I found out he went to Nella last night, which is where the big _fuck you _comes into play," she said.

"Oh, Shiv," Dorcas said, reaching to put a hand on Siobhan's shoulder.

She pulled away and braced her elbows on our small table. Somehow her wand made its way into her hand and I watched her carefully, making sure she wouldn't dash off in search of her cheating ex-fiancé and a prison cell in Azkaban.

Melville Lewis was a Ravenclaw in our year, every image of tall, dark, and handsome. Until now, I'd never have guessed he was the type to be a player; he had been Siobhan's first longer-than-a-month relationship, and things had been going seemingly fantastic between them until now. To think that he'd gotten up the courage to actually propose to her! My heart went out to him, despite my allegiance to my best friend. Siobhan was a handful, and to have thought about pledging the rest of his life to her… _Wow._

"What was he doing with Nella?" Dorcas asked.

Siobhan's face darkened. "What do you think?"

"I don't think he would've done anything bad, Shiv," Dorcas said, shaking her head. "I partnered with him often in Advanced Runes, and he was always kind and –"

She was interrupted by a young woman in a long, beautiful summer dress, her light brown hair hanging straight down her back. I watched her break free from the crowd and walk towards the table, an older woman holding her arm and a small parcel in the other.

"Dorcas!" the younger woman called upon reaching our table, pulling Dorcas out of her chair and into a hug.

"Marlene?" I heard Dorcas exclaim over the top of Marlene's head.

Marlene pulled away, holding Dorcas at arm's length and looking up to study Dorcas' face. "We were just at Gringott's and we saw you from across the square!" she said, motioning to the older woman.

Standing behind with a smile, the older woman stepped forward, bowing her head graciously, her auburn curls piled up onto her head and her brown eyes bright. Her dress was a pale green with faint swirling patterns, surprisingly form-fitting for her apparent age. There was something regal about her, something kind and overwhelmingly comforting. I couldn't stop staring at her. After Dorcas introduced the brunette as Marlene McKinnon, I listened with dread as she introduced the older woman.

"Siobhan, Lily, this is James' mother, Elaine Potter."

I think I stopped breathing. I wanted to sink into my chair. I wanted to sink straight through to the ground, through the cracks in the cobblestones, through the dirt and mud, and just die. James' _mother._

_His mother!_

Elaine's eyes shot straight to mine. The urge to look away was strong, but her pull was stronger, and she stepped forward, reaching for my hand with a vague smile on her face. I wasn't sure if I should be afraid of her or not, but she didn't grip my hand too hard when I placed it in hers, and her eyes only turned shrewd when I said, "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Potter. I'm Lily Evans."

"Miss Evans! I've heard much about you," she said, pulling her hand back. "I hope you don't mind us joining you for a spell? We've been walking for such a long while, and my weary old bones need some rest!"

I nodded. My tongue was frozen to the top of my mouth.

"Of course, Mrs. Potter," Dorcas said, scooting her chair over.

She took Marlene's outstretched arm and gestured for Dorcas to regain her seat, summoning with a flick of her wand two others. "And it's lovely to see you again, Miss Delaney."

Siobhan grunted a hello, and even I wanted to scold her for her rudeness. Dorcas looked appalled as Elaine and Marlene laughed; it gave me comfort that they were used to her erratic personality already.

"We were shopping for the gala," Elaine said, sitting herself between myself and Marlene. "It's in a few weeks, and usually I would have our elves, Renny and Kinna, do it, but the poor things have been sick for such a long while that I don't have the heart to send them out. And with Harold out all the time, it's nice to have something to occupy my mind."

Dorcas smiled. "I'm sure the gala will be lovely."

"Another one?" whined Siobhan. "The last time you threw one, Mrs. P, my parents fought for weeks about which one they were going to go to. You know the Blacks will have theirs on the same night."

"Only natural," Elaine laughed. "They can do as they like. Your parents will have to join me this year, however, as we're having Valarie come from the States to sing for us. I know how your mother so loves Valarie's new album."

"Elaine's playing dirty this year," Marlene giggled.

Dorcas grinned. "Valarie White? How exciting!"

"I'll be sending invitations once the date draws near and we set solid details, but it will probably be later this month or in the middle of next so that Valarie does not have to miss her American Independence," Elaine said. "You will all be invited, of course."

She turned to me, then, despite my hope of staying invisible during this whole conversation. I didn't know how much Potter had told her about me throughout the years, especially about the past few days, so I was curious as to whether she'd fry me with her eyes or treat me kindly as she did Dorcas.

What would she have to say to the girl who broke her son's heart?

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, and, if I hadn't been shocked enough, she took my hand in hers. And she smiled. And I think I was on the verge of collapse.

"I…"

What? I what? Dorcas caught my eye from across the table and nodded, giving me a pointed look that said, _Don't lie! _

"Well, I, uh…"

_What? Say something! _I reached up to run a nervous hand through my hair, getting my fingers caught in the emerald ribbon. I blushed. Now that I was aware of it, it felt like it was burning a circle straight through my skull. I was so aware of its presence as Elaine studied my face, and as soon as her eyes strayed towards my hair, I opened my mouth and blurted the first thing that came to mind, anything to get her attention from that ribbon.

"I – I like your son."

_Oh, God._

"No shit," Siobhan gasped, jumping to her feet. I could see the silver in her molars as her mouth dropped. "No, you fucking don't!"

I gently tugged my hand from Elaine's and buried my face. There was not a word strong enough to express my mortification. I'd wanted something to take her mind from the ribbon in my hair, the ribbon Potter had sent me to prove his forgiveness, the ribbon I had kept with me to prove my absolute insanity, and had only succeeded in revealing the only thing I'd been trying to hide.

"I don't believe this," Siobhan crowed. I looked up to see her hands on her face now. She was staring at me as if she'd never seen me before. "I'm sorry, you _what_?"

I couldn't look at Elaine. My face was aflame, my blush burning my freckles in its trek across my face, and my hands fidgeted in my lap. Would this ever get any easier?

It was quiet as it came out of my mouth, but I congratulated myself on saying it. "I, uh… I fancy James."

Siobhan started chattering at Dorcas and Marlene, her rapid sentences interspersed with colorful language and loud interjections, but I was listening for Elaine's reaction. I didn't know her disposition well enough to predict her thoughts or what she'd say, but I could only hope for something to come soon, because sitting there, avoiding her eyes, was the most painful wait. Would it be anger for her son's hurt feelings, or the surprising kindness she showed me when she asked how I was feeling? She obviously knew more than she was letting on, and it was that unknown variable that was worrying me.

_Why are you scared, Lily?_

I looked up. Elaine's warm, brown eyes met mine and she smiled. I was unmoving as she reached for a strand of hair, tucked it behind my ear, and patted my cheek.

"It's about time," she said.

My chuckle was a mix of strangled and relieved. "I – I don't…?"

"The way you and James bicker remind me of Harold and I when we were younger," she said, and it hit me then just how strange this conversation really was. If I had thought about it – and I never let myself think that far ahead – meeting Potter's mother should've come way down the road, when I was sure about how I felt about him and about me and about _us_. Sitting with her now, unsure of the extent of my meaning of "fancy," unsure of my stability and of Potter's true feelings, it was difficult and not at all the right time to be doing this.

"He's quite taken with you, Miss Evans," she said. "I won't pretend to be completely pleased with you at the way things have gone recently, but you are a lovely young woman and I know you'll sort things out."

_Breathe. _

"Y-yes, Mrs. Potter."

She smiled that smile again before turning to the whole table. "Well, we must be going, we've got much to shop for today and I'm sure you ladies want to enjoy this beautiful weather! It was wonderful to finally meet you, Miss Evans. Miss Delaney, give my regards to your parents and an informal invite to this year's gala, I'm certain they'll not desert me this year. And Miss Meadowes, darling, let your parents know that I'm available if they need any assistance with their new home."

We all bid her farewell, and I watched her and Marlene join the crowd walking towards The Leaky Cauldron until I couldn't see them any longer.

"Lily Evans, you complete duffer!" Siobhan exclaimed as soon as we were alone again. "Why didn't you tell me that'd been a lover's tiff on the platform? You and Potter! This is mad!"

"It hadn't been," I grumbled, crossing my right leg over my left. "I just realized why it was we had been rowing for so long, and, well, that's what the answer was."

"And you didn't think to tell me? This is big. This is a _big deal_," Siobhan said, her earlier anger dissipated and replaced by a manic excitement. "Does he know? Have you told him? I _have _to be there when you tell him. And you _have _to snog his face off."

Dorcas grabbed Siobhan's wrist and yanked her back into her seat. "Stop overreacting. She doesn't want to talk about it."

"How do you know that?"

"How do you not?"

Siobhan rolled her eyes. "I'm not Miss People Person like you are. And besides, you and Lily have been buddy-buddy since you first met; it's not like –"

"I'm right here," I said, getting to my feet. "And I'm sorry I hadn't told you, Shiv. I'm still trying to understand it myself. Maybe we should go somewhere so that…"

I trailed off at the sudden blanching of Dorcas' face and the wicked grin on Siobhan's. Their eyes, blue and brown, were trained directly over my shoulder.

And a terribly familiar voice cleared its throat.

"Evans."

It was surprising, the little thrill that tingled through my muscles at the timbre of his voice, the way my spinal cord practically dissolved, leaving my nerves with no place to go. I could feel his eyes study the tense shock of my limbs, the sudden stillness that stole through me as I stared at a fixed place on the ground, afraid to look up and see Dorcas and Siobhan's faces, afraid to turn around and see him for the first time since our fight.

I didn't know when my day decided to completely screw me over, but I knew that I didn't want to turn around. I could feel him standing there, right behind me, maybe a few inches of air between his chest and the back of my head, and if I closed my eyes, I could see him walking away, that uneven set to his shoulders and the loping gait that sung defeat like a movie behind my eyelids.

The real thing would be worse. He was there, right _there_, right behind me, and all I had to do was turn. It'd take just a pivot, not even a step, and his eyes and long nose and kind of goofy-looking mouth would be right in my face.

_Look at me, Lily. I'm right here._

He didn't touch me; he didn't need to. I turned, as if pulled by gravity, and looked up to meet him.

"Hello, James."

* * *

_A/N: I love you all :D_


	6. Hello

_A/N: WHEW. This was a whirlwind chapter to get done, but I really wanted to get this up soon, because, hello, it's James! Aaaand... well, the end is a complete surprise and kinda forced its way onto this chapter, so I hope it makes up for last chapter's cliffhanger! Tons of thanks to my fantastic beta Zayz: this version is for you ;)_

_And many, many thanks to those of you alerting and favoriting and reviewing, it really keeps a writer motivated! (Especially for those extra Lily/James moments.)_

_As always,  
Mina :)_

_(Haha, sorry for the confusion, but guys, this is definitely not the end!)_

* * *

**SIX: HELLO**

* * *

I don't know how long we stood there staring at one another. It was so different than the last time, when we'd been glaring across several painful feet of air, trying to injure and damage with our eyes. Now we were studying, watching in every way timid, attempting to communicate without speaking the thoughts in our heads and the secrets in our hearts. Much like his mother, I could not look away from his face, and I praised myself for not completely collapsing into an incompetent, blundering mess.

It was his eyes that I noticed first; behind his glasses, they were earnest but guarded, squinting slightly. His lips were pursed. His hair, as ever, was a chaotic mess of black, and though my eyes raked his face unabashedly, I would let myself go no further than that. In fact, in looking up at him, I realized at once that he was entirely too close, and I did not trust myself to push him backwards – to put a hand on him anywhere – so I took a step back, ran into my chair, and gripped the back of it to steady myself.

Changed minds can open eyes. The difference in his face was subtle. Perhaps it was only because the last time I'd seen him he had been all sorts of livid and disappointed, but he seemed happier now, or at least more composed, and I tried not to let my small relief at that fact scare me. I was not completely used to caring about how he felt; this tiny happiness at his content was very new and strange and irritating and frightening all at once.

I wanted to say something, but nothing was coming to mind. I knew that I was forgiven, but I was also in the wrong, and before I knew where things stood and what he was thinking, I was not going to open my mouth. He would have to speak first.

But it seemed he was more content to study my face in the same manner I was sure to be doing to him. Eyes, nose, reddened cheeks, forehead, brow, chin, a daring glance at my lips; he caught it all, and I could see his mind cataloguing these images away as he'd always done, calculating in that impossible way everything I was feeling. It had always been so easy for him to read my face, and I wondered, with my note last night – _You hadn't misunderstood anything; I can see now – _what his reaction would be.

And, also like his mother, his gaze eventually strayed to that damned ribbon. He smiled a bit, and my grip on the chair tightened. Would he pretend as if the past two days had never happened and move straight into our previous attempt at an awkward friendship, or would he acknowledge it?

_I can't do this. I can't do this. Oh, please, just walk away –_

"Diana was rather impatient last night," he said with a weak smirk, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I hope you weren't expecting an answer right off."

I exhaled. He was not going to ignore it. It happened – he knew I fancied him – he knew, he knew, he knew – he had forgiven me – he was standing right there, and I had to keep squeezing the back of the chair in order to keep my hands to myself and not run a finger down his forearm to make sure he was real.

"No," I managed to say, then shook my head, trying to stick with being honest. "I mean, it would've been nice to have known, before I, um, went to bed. I didn't sleep much."

He peered at me for a few seconds too long before glancing over my shoulder, and it was a sad fact indeed that I had completely forgotten about Dorcas and Siobhan behind me. I turned to see innocent expressions pinned onto their faces.

"I'm stealing her for a while," James said. "I'm glad you won't mind."

Siobhan grinned, but I had to look at Dorcas, whose eyes widened. She stared at me: _Are you sure?_

I wasn't at all. But if I was ever going to be okay with this, we needed to talk, loathe though I was to admit any of it. So I nodded, more to myself than to her, and tried to ignore Siobhan's lewd wink as I turned back to James, reveling again that he was _here_.

"Okay, then," he said, starting to walk backwards, leading me down the street.

I took slow, measured steps toward him, maintaining the distance. It was as if we were testing the taut line between us, and any pace quicker would snap it. It was pathetic, but I was still wary and I'm sure he was afraid of me flying off the handle again or running away. I was just afraid of the image of his back, walking away, leaving me behind; at that, my steps quickened until I was beside him, my hands joined tightly in front of me.

"So," he said, his hands safely in his pockets, as if this were an ordinary thing for us to be doing, just walking down the street together. We started walking in an aimless direction amidst the dwindling evening crowd. "Siobhan's hair is… interesting."

_This is okay. I can do small talk,_ I thought to myself, glancing up to see his calm face. He seemed completely at ease, whereas my frazzled nerves were bouncing underneath my skin. I actually felt a little shy underneath all my anxiety, something I'd never felt around him before – irritated, angry, annoyed, tired, yes, but shy?

"I couldn't believe it when I saw it," I said carefully. "All that hair just gone. And _blonde_?"

"It matches her personality," he said, chuckling.

I smiled to myself. "Yeah."

We fell quiet after that. It wasn't an entirely uncomfortable silence, but I couldn't still my thoughts and kept sneaking glances at him out of the corner of my eye. I knew he was waiting for me to say something, but I couldn't figure just how to go about it, and so I didn't chance it.

Gradually our steps fell into rhythm. The back of his hand brushed against mine as he stepped closer to me, trying to avoid getting run over by a large group of children running by. He moved over immediately after, but the idea was placed in my head and I couldn't let it go – he was so much bigger than me, would his hand completely dwarf mine if I were to grab it? Would he pull away? Or, like walking together down the street, like a breath, like a blink, like an involuntary heartbeat, would it seem natural?

_Holding James Potter's hand. Lily Evans, what has happened to you?_

But I kept my hands in front of me. Instead, I said, "I met your mother today. She was very kind."

"She is," he smiled, looking down at me. The sun lit the gold in his eyes. "She thinks you're beautiful."

I blushed and fell back on the only thing I had in my arsenal that wasn't stuttering nonsense: banter. "And how would that be? I've only just met her today, and you've had no time to talk to her since then."

"Ah." It was his turn to blush. I was glad that I wasn't the only one aware of the awkwardness of this whole situation. "That's the power of photography, Evans."

"You have a picture of me?" I asked, surprised.

"You think my Lily Evans shrine would be complete without one?"

His grin was incorrigible. I rolled my eyes, resisted the urge to punch him on the arm, and sighed. "I suppose not. As long as you don't have a lock of my hair hidden away somewhere; that, you could do without."

"You've found me out," he laughed.

The narrow storefront of Ollivander's was on our right, and he stopped to lean against the sill. Not wanting to get grime on my shorts from the shabby-looking window, I stood next to him, nervous now that his humor seemed to have been pushed aside. My mind was playing a repeating cycle: _Whatever he's about to say, tell the truth. Breathe. Tell the truth. Breathe. Tell the truth._

"Speaking of your hair and all things lovely," he began, wiping his palms on his jeans. He glanced up at the ribbon circling my head before staring pensively into my face. "I need to know what this means to you."

Talk about abrupt.

_Breathe. Tell the truth._

If he would've looked away, anywhere else, I probably would've been able to form some semblance of an answer. But all I could think about was the flower he had owled and how deliriously relieved I had been, how my own happiness was mystifying and not at all what I had been expecting to feel.

Supposing me confused, he went on, his voice subdued, "I told you on Monday that this isn't something I can turn on and off. It's always been there, and I'm beginning to think that it's always going to be there. I just – you're bloody damn confusing, Lily, and I don't… I don't want you to be afraid of me."

_Breathe._

"James…"

"Look at me."

So I looked. At his hands, braced on his thighs; at his muscled forearms, the angles of his elbows, his broad shoulders underneath his t-shirt, the skin of his neck. I looked at the slope of his jaw, the straight line of his nose, and the plane of his forehead; I looked at the little freckle on his temple and the curve of his lips; I looked at his messy hair and his thick eyebrows and the glint of his glasses. And once I was able to accept all these things, accept how truly handsome he was and how I'd really like to stare at him for a little bit longer, I looked at his eyes.

And there it was. That gravity, that pull, that incessant tugging at my heart; the shifting of something that was greater than I was, the falling away of a piece of myself, the disappearance of the things I'd been holding onto; the crack in my armor, the heat in my chest, the bridge of the song, my song, his song, our song, colliding right here in front of the shop where my life really began. I looked at him and realized that it _was_ me that had to break, that it was me that had to jump that gap and know that I'd end up okay on the other end.

"I need to know what this means to you," he repeated slowly. "I can't keep doing this if it's for nothing, Lily."

I shook my head. What did I want from this? I fancied him – that I had come to terms with – but what did that mean? Did I want to _date_ him? That was a possibility, as he had been asking me since I'd met him, and I suppose it wouldn't be too awkward…

"I want this to go _some_where," I said, just as slow. I wrung my hands in front of me and refused to look at him as I spoke. "I'm just not – I mean, obviously I like you, but I'm – I'm sorry that – _ugh!_"

The breath was knocked right out of me as the ground vanished from underneath my feet. Arms wrapped a vise around my stomach and I flailed as I was spun around once, twice, three times, before being sat back down, the world spinning drastically. I threw an arm out to steady myself against the wall of Ollivander's, and winced as an obnoxious voice blared:

"Evans, you bloody she-devil! How the hell are you?"

James cursed and pushed himself off the building. "What the hell, Padfoot? Seriously. You could not have waited, like, ten fucking minutes?"

Sirius grinned. "Seriously, I could not. Seriously. You abandoned me at the Quidditch shop in search of Mummy Potter, and here I find you with Lily Love!" He glanced between James and me, his eyes brightening. "Oh… am I interrupting something?"

"Yes. Yes, you are," James snapped, pulling Sirius aside.

As they began to mutter to one another, I leaned against the sill where James had just been, amazed at what I'd almost done. It needed to be said, of course, but… I'd almost said it! _James, I'm sorry that I've wasted all this time…_ How trite. Maybe it was a good thing Black was such a dunce; it gave me more time to really think about how to go about this, how to make it sound right and how to tell him exactly what I was feeling, and exactly what I wanted from this, whatever this was.

But I could've had it said and done by now, and… I didn't know what would've happened. With new territory came an unpredictable, uncharted stretch of summer days.

"You shouldn't even be here," I heard James mutter.

Sirius glanced up at me before uttering a hushed, "They won't find me. It's dark, and I'll switch back as soon as I can."

I frowned, pushing off the sill just as James had, and walked up to them. "Is something going on?"

"I have to run off, Lilykins. My brothel is waiting for my return, and I mustn't displease my mistresses," Sirius said, lifting my hand. I yanked it away before he could kiss – or slobber – all over it, and he laughed, waving, as he walked jauntily away. He was at Gringotts before I could stop glaring in his direction.

"Sorry. He's a prat of a best friend," James said, running a hand through his hair. He glanced at me warily before pulling an ornate pocketwatch from his back pocket and flipping it open, giving it a quick once-over before snapping it shut and hiding it away.

"What time is it?" I asked. The sun was almost completely down now, and I hadn't realized how long we'd been away.

"Uh," he said, tugging at his sleeve to reveal another watch. "Almost seven. Are Dorcas and Siobhan expecting you back?"

"Why do you have two timepieces on you?" I countered.

"The one is my father's," he said, tapping his pocket. "It only works half the time, but it's an heirloom, and I'm a family man at heart. And I got this one out of a box of Merlin Munchies when I was ten. I've had it ever since."

I laughed. He smiled and jerked his head to the side, motioning me to follow him. "C'mon, let's get you back to your womenfolk."

"Listen, James," I said as we regained our stride. "I know the things I said were wicked, and I know how you feel – I'm trying to understand, at least – and what I wrote yesterday was true. But –"

"You don't have to say anything right now," he said, tucking his hands back into his pockets. "I've been waiting for six years, Lily. I'll be alright. Take your time. Just don't string me along, alright?"

I nodded. "I think that's fair."

Dorcas and Siobhan were in sight as we passed Knockturn Alley, and I wanted to pull him away from them, tell him how sorry I was to have made him wait for so long, how horrid those words made me feel. But he kept walking towards them and I hadn't the courage to grab his arm and drag him back.

_I'm sorry that I'm afraid of you._

"Sirius told us you were snogging by Ollivander's!" Siobhan shouted, jogging across the square to greet us. She grabbed James by the shoulders and shook him. "Were you _really_, James Potter? Because I will kiss you myself if you had been – Lily's been dying for a good snog for such a long time, and I could really use a rebound bloke right about now."

"He said no such thing," Dorcas said as she reached us.

I moved from James' side to Dorcas', and she immediately took my hand in her own. I gripped it tight, anchoring myself. "Thanks," I whispered to her.

She squeezed my hand in response before turning to Potter. It felt like a negotiation situation, the transfer of a hostage from one party to another. "Everything alright, James?" Dorcas asked.

"Just trying to woo our Evans here," James grinned. "She drives a hard bargain."

"I bet she does," Siobhan drawled, giggling. "Anyway, I have a man to kill, so I'll be seeing you all later if I'm not in the clink by then. Regards to your families and all that jazz."

And she skipped off towards the Leaky Cauldron, whistling.

James looked mildly alarmed. "Uh."

"Long story," Dorcas said, shaking her head. "You may read about it in tomorrow's _Prophet_ if Mel's not hiding well enough."

James looked to me, but I just shrugged. "I'll tell you later."

"Okay," he said. He smiled and checked his watch – the one on his wrist with an expensive-looking leather band that had supposedly come from a cereal box – before ruffling up his hair. "I should be off. Sirius will be getting into some kind of trouble at any minute, I can feel it."

"You have a Sirius sensor?" I asked, laughing.

James grinned. "You'd have one too, if you spent as much time with him. But I'll see you two later. Have a good night, Dorcas, Lily."

And he was gone.

Dorcas whirled on me the very second he faded into the night. "Did you flirt with him the entire time?"

"I was not _flirting _with him," I exclaimed, marching off towards the Leaky Cauldron so that we could Apparate home.

She ran after me, snatching my hand back up, and I gripped it, hard, when I realized that, you know, maybe we were kind of flirting just then, and did I tell him I'd fill him in about Siobhan later? Which meant that he really would be seeing us later? Which meant that, eventually, I'd have to tell him what this all meant to me?

I smacked my forehead. "Unghh."

"It's okay," Dorcas said. "If it helps, Sirius did say that things weren't looking so hopeless anymore."

"Anymore?"

She bit her lip. "James was, ah, quite ready to give up until they talked some sense into him. Apparently Remus was watching you quite closely on the platform."

"So everybody knows," I groaned, heaving open the door to the Leaky Cauldron. I pulled Dorcas into a corner where we could Apparate – Apparition had been blocked in Diagon Alley itself as a precaution against You-Know-Who and his rising supporters – and I tried to calm myself so that I wouldn't splinch the both of us. Since Dorcas was sill underage, we had to do Side-Along Apparition, something I still wasn't completely comfortable with.

"Breathe, Lily," Dorcas said, laughing. "You'll live."

I sighed, letting go of my nerves so that we could Apparate. "That's what I'm trying to tell myself."

"Lily! Lily, wait!"

I jerked my eyes open, jumping with a gasp as my wand clattered to the floor. I'd almost splinched us; I was on the brink of letting myself fly, of pulling us from the Leaky Cauldron and to my home, and good God, we could've died! We could've lost an arm or our bottom halves or our heads – _splinched! _

"Lily," James called, pushing through the crowd to reach us.

Dorcas dropped my hand and stepped back just as James tugged me into his arms.

There was way, way too much to focus on – sensory overload. The first thing to hit me, besides his chest in my face, was his smell, something like pine or musk or Quidditch or something, something I would forever remember as him, something that made me want to stuff my face in his shirt and never come up for air – and his knees knocked against mine and I think I fell into him way too quickly, because he stepped back as I stepped forward – and his hands on my back, they certainly felt as big as they looked, pressing against my shoulder blades and the base of my spine, right above my shorts – and his waist, narrower than I thought it had been, the muscles rippling pleasantly as I placed my hands against his back – and his stomach was warm against mine, his heart thumping too hard against my head – I wanted to explode, to combust, because it was way too much, and this was why I couldn't bring myself to touch him earlier – and God, did he know what he was _doing?_

It felt longer than it actually was, or perhaps I just wanted it to last a little bit longer, because he pulled away just a few seconds later. I was sure I was blushing all over. He bent down to pick up my wand, placing it in my hand and looking into my face.

"Don't take_ too_ long," he whispered.

Trembling, I watched him disappear through the front door.

I had to sit down. There was no way in hell I'd be able to Apparate without splinching after that.


	7. Wookie

_A/N: This thing came out of nowhere. It's a bit more light-hearted than the others, more silly, but I like it and I hope you guys do, too. It's kind of important plot-wise (though you wouldn't guess it), so it's not a complete waste of time, and I tried to make it longer for ya'll! Let me know if you like the length or not, if you like shorter chapters more often or longer chapters at longer intervals._

_Once again, thank you all so much for your reviews and alerts. I appreciate each and every one of them, so please keep them coming! :)_

_As always,  
Mina_

* * *

**SEVEN: DINNER**

* * *

He was a cheater. He was a dirty, rotten, bloody cheater and he knew it. Like I didn't notice that smirk as he walked away. Or the way he whispered right against my ear. Or his stupid fingers, curling around my hand as he placed my wand into my palm. Or, God, that _hug_.

He came back so that he could hug me. However many seconds it had lasted, I'd been all sorts of shocked and staggered and surprisingly pleased because it had been the first time, in all the years that I'd known him, that we'd voluntarily touched one another. I'd felt his nervous heartbeat through his chest - nervous that I would push him away, nervous that I'd hex him for the attempt, nervous that I would start a row - that heartbeat that accelerated when I had leaned into him, pressing my hands against his back and wondering what the hell I was doing. At the time I told myself it was a reflex; someone hugs you, you hug them back. But when he pulled away first - he was doing all the leaving lately - I felt a bit… empty.

Dorcas peered at me over her book. "I'm afraid of leaving you like this. Maybe I should ask my Dad if I could stay another week?"

I sighed, slumping next to her on my bed. We were dressed in our pajamas and ready for slee[, but because Dorcas was staying in the guest bedroom, it'd been hard to fall asleep the past two nights. In our dorm at Hogwarts, we'd been so used to passing out in the middle of whispered conversations, both fanciful and deep, and it was difficult to get used to her not being there when I turned my head with an errant thought about an assignment or a little piece of gossip.

She placed her bookmark in the spine of her novel and sat it on my end table. I cuddled up next to her and laughed when she blew a strand of my hair out of her face.

"You should stay in here tonight," I said. "If not because I'm going incredibly out of my mind, but because Petunia's snoring might break the wards I put up and completely destroy the wall between your rooms."

"Safety first," she intoned.

"Precisely."

"Really, though, Lily, do you want me to stay a little longer? I'm sure Mum and Dad will be okay with it."

I shook my head. "Much as I'd like you to, I think I need to work on my Dorcas dependency. Your parents probably miss you, anyway."

"Yeah," she said. "But that doesn't mean I can't be here. I don't know what you'll do when I'm not around to keep you sane."

"I'll manage," I said, rolling my eyes. "The thought of him doesn't make me want to wet my pants anymore, so I suppose I'm getting better."

"After tonight? Doubtful."

I pinched her side; she spun away from me, squealing, and almost fell off the bed when she threw an arm out, catching the edge of the end table that I could've sworn hadn't been in that position a few seconds before. Gripping my outstretched arm, she pulled herself back on the bed and smacked my hand. "You're such a - you're such an _arse_!"

Affecting shock, I gave her an exaggerated gasp. "Dorcas Ellen! Such _language_!"

"Shut up," she mumbled, laying back. After a long moment, she said, "What are you going to do?"

"About James?"

She nodded.

I frowned. What _was _I going to do? I remembered her previous words, joking, then, but now foreboding_: __Maybe you can ask him to Hogsmeade or something. _He'd say yes; there was no chance of denial. He'd be just as courteous and gentlemanly and annoyingly alluring as he was tonight. He'd give me the space I needed, which was wise, because I did not want to throw myself into this thing arse-backwards and hurt anybody else more than I already had. He'd be kind. He'd be devastatingly handsome even when he wasn't trying to be. I just… I didn't feel ready? I didn't know what it was. Maybe it was just hesitance. Maybe, instead of him or his feelings, I was afraid of my own, of how I felt when he pulled me to him in those short seconds.

"Is it sad that I wish he were here?" I mumbled. As soon as the question was out of my mouth I wanted to reel it right back in. I could feel the blush already.

Dorcas laughed. "No. I'm sure we could get him here, though, if you want. Send Diana off with a request. 'Dearest James, I do so wish you were in my bed right now - '"

I pulled away from her with a glare. "And people say you're the _nice_ one! 'Oh, that Dorcas, she's so modest and wholesome and kind!' If only they knew."

"Just wait until everyone at Hogwarts knows you fancy James," she smirked.

I cringed. "That'll be interesting. And painful."

"I'm sure they'll have seen it coming."

"Not everybody knows me as well as you do," I pointed out, reaching across her for my wand. With a wave, I turned the lights out and flicked the ceiling fan on. Dorcas grunted as I yanked the sheets out from under her and crawled in, getting myself settled on my pillow and waiting impatiently as she slid in after me. "Can you hurry up?"

"I can go back to my own room," she said, fluffing her pillow. "I don't need to talk to you as much as you need to talk to me."

"You're evil," I growled. "Absolutely the worst friend ever."

"Six years running," she said. "And I think our classmates know you better than they think you do. At least enough to predict your actions, though this one will blow them away."

I sighed, closing my eyes. "We've got two months until then. Quite enough time to figure this all out."

Her laughter shook the bed. "You don't think James is in raptures, telling everybody and anybody he knows? I have doubts about his composure."

"I don't think he'll tell anybody," I began. "Except Sirius and Remus. And Peter. And his mum and dad, probably. Dumbledore, and maybe McGonagall, too. And his mate Garrett, from Hufflepuff. And definitely Frank…" I trailed off, blanching. "Not _everybody… _He wouldn't, would he?"

I didn't need to see Dorcas' face to know she was giving me a Look.

I buried my face in my pillow. "I will kill him."

"You have yet to go out with him!" she giggled. "I know you want to. You didn't see your face earlier! Merlin help you, Lily: I think you're lost."

"Don't say that," I groaned.

Lost already without even having stepped foot into anything. Lost? I was _doomed.  
_

_**-QS-  
**_

It was raining when I woke up the next morning. Thunder instigated the aching of my head and I rolled over, stretching until my joints popped. I peeled my eyes open to see Dorcas squatting on the floor and rummaging around in my trunk, tossing things over her shoulder as she mumbled to herself.

"Wha - " I cleared the sleep from my throat. "What are you looking for?"

She jumped, one hand dropping to her side as something thunked to the floor. Her eyes were wide as she ducked her head. "Remember that sweater I leant you over Christmas holiday, the green one? You never gave it back. It's Mum's."

I snuggled further into the covers. "Bottom left, under my Potions book."

"Which one?" she mumbled to herself.

The thought of her leaving made me sad. She had been the first real friend I had at Hogwarts - besides Severus, whose abrupt absence still hurt my heart when I allowed myself to think about it - the first girl who stuck with me in Gryffindor. It was a blessing to have had her here these past few days, when I hadn't been able to deal with these new emotions and thoughts myself. Now that I was almost accepting of them, I was hopeful that I'd be okay, but that didn't mean I wouldn't wish she was around.

"I'll miss you," I said as she straightened, tugging on her braids.

She smiled. "You're just saying that because your sister will be around more."

"Probably," I said, sitting up. "But it'll be weird, not having you here. It won't feel like home. Not like Hogwarts does."

She bent down to shove everything back into my trunk and slid it against the wall. With a sigh, she sat down next to me and patted my hand. "I know, but Lily, I think we need to take a break."

I rolled my eyes and, shoving her shoulder, pushed myself out of bed. "I should not have left you alone with Shiv yesterday."

She laughed.

We bickered about Siobhan's hair and how long it would take for her to run to Sirius for a little rebounding while Dorcas packed, and were in the kitchen, hoarding all Mum's coffee and debating about the terms and conditions of the word "rebound" when the doorbell rang. I hurried to answer it before Petunia could, and opened the door to Dorcas' father, dressed in long robes of deep purple.

Our goodbye was short, full of promises to see one another soon, to take care, to not go crazy in the other's absence, and as I closed the door, it felt like the house was entirely too silent. Mum was at work, Dorcas was gone, and I was downstairs, alone, which was never a good thing when my thoughts were so dangerous.

I busied myself with emptying the dishwasher and putting away silverware, practicing doing things the muggle way for a change, and was reaching on tip-toes to put away glasses when Petunia stomped into the kitchen. Her khaki slacks were pressed, her polo shirt - pink, of course - was ironed, and her hair, blonde and shiny, was perfectly coiffed. She'd look pleasant if there wasn't that scowl on her face.

"Is your friend gone?"

I sighed, shutting the dishwasher. "Yes, she's gone."

"Good. She made all kinds of noise during the night, it was disturbing. I couldn't sleep half the time, and Marge kept asking me why I had these dreadful bags under my eyes when she saw me, and I couldn't tell her there was a freak in my house, banging on the walls - "

"Wait, what?"

The question was half-hearted, as Petunia would over exaggerate over anything Dorcas did, so I paid her little attention as I threw the coffee filter in the trash and wiped off the counters. She followed me around the kitchen, playing with the engagement ring on her finger.

"Like, thumping on the walls! I don't know what the blazes she was doing over there, but I know that I'm glad she's gone. I can finally have _my _friends over - "

"I doubt she was doing anything on purpose, Petunia."

She scoffed. "I didn't say she was, _Lily_. It was just irritating, and all I'm saying is that I'm glad she's gone. She was weird."

I raised my eyebrows. "You didn't even talk to her!"

"Ugh. I'm just - listen. Vernon is coming over for dinner tonight, so keep your _magic_ away from him," she said. Plucking an apple from the hanging basket, she made a little huffing noise and whisked from the room. Before she completely turned the corner, she muttered over her shoulder, "Please."

My teeth ground together. I entertained the thought of inviting Siobhan over for dinner before deciding against it. Even Petunia didn't deserve that.

_**-QS-  
**_

"Mum, do you _hear _her? She's utterly impossible! '_Vernon _is such a responsible man. _Vernon _just got a very respectable promotion at Grunnings. _Vernon_ is so handsome in his work attire. His mother is so proud of him. We're going to have just the most fantastic wedding cake - in fact, we were thinking of having two because he's just so _rotund_ and _adorable_!'"

Mum choked on her water and dropped the salad spoons. "_Lily!_"

"It's okay to laugh, Mum," I said, filling up the gravy boat. "It's absurd."

She stared at me for a moment - I saw the debate on her face, whether she should scold me or laugh like she wanted to - before settling on both. Her "honestly, Lily," came out on a giggle and I had to grin. When I turned back around, the small porcelain tub of beef gravy in my hands, she was shaking with silent mirth, lettuce falling over the sides of the bowl with her erratic stirring.

"He's awful," she managed to say, "But you have to respect your sister. She's happy, and that's all I want my daughters to be."

I rolled my eyes. "Very noble of you, Mum. Really."

"It's true," she said, gaining her composure. She finished with the salad and moved to take something that smelled heavenly out of the oven, sitting it on the counter and turning the buzzer off. "Even if you were to bring some beastly man home, with pustules all over his face and no job and a dreadful accent; if you were happy, I'd be happy."

"I would hope you'd have better faith in my taste," I said, avoiding her eyes.

I couldn't help but wonder if she'd like James. He was much more of the human species than Vernon was, which was an automatic plus, but he was arrogant and messed with his hair too much and was immature and drove me crazy with those stupid, stupid hands. The ghost of his fingers on my back gave me the shivers and I had to turn around completely to hide my blush. Yesterday he had been a completely different person. Yesterday was the type of James Potter I wouldn't be embarrassed to bring home to my mum, despite the awful connotations to that thought. Meeting the parents meant some sort of permanence, something called a _relationship. _Was I ready for that?

With a groan, I reminded myself that I'd already, inadvertently, met _his_ mother.

Wholly unready. Entirely, fully uncommitted to a relationship with James. But there was that creeping desire to touch him again, to just grab his hand or let him hug me like he had last night…

_Merlin help you, Lily__: I think you're lost._

"Not entirely," I grumbled to myself, getting butter out of the refrigerator.

Mum was looking at me strangely when I turned back to the island counter. I passed by her wordlessly, picking up the gravy boat as I walked by, and escaped into the dining room to start setting the table. It hadn't been a week since our fight and I was already driven to the point of talking to myself.

I took my time getting back to the kitchen, knowing Mum would hound me upon my return. She was waiting when I got back, an unconvincing look of innocence on her face, and I grimaced, internally preparing myself for the inquisition.

"Oh, don't look like such a martyr, Lily," she said, pulling plates out of a cabinet. "I'm not going to ask if you don't want me to."

…_What? _

"Really?"

She smiled. "If you want to hide things from your mummy, the woman who held you in her womb for nine _lovely _months and breastfed you and changed your dirty nappies, that's fine."

My sigh knocked the napkin holder over. "Woe is you."

"It's okay," she said, taking the salad bowl into the dining room. I had time to roll my eyes and raise a fist at her before she came back, turning her big, mournful eyes at me. "I'll be alright. Just your poor old mother, wanting to know about her daughter's life, the daughter that she never gets to see anymore because she's off learning about magic and flicking her wand about a castle - "

"Okay, Mum, seriously? Stop." After a pause and some heavy reluctance, I said, "His name is James."

Her eyes narrowed. "That Potter boy?"

_That _I hadn't expected. "Uh."

It was at this time I regretted telling her anything about James and his years of tormenting me and my friends. While it was one thing to tell her I fancied someone, it was an entire other to tell her that I fancied 'that Potter boy,' who I had oftentimes called, among many other things, a sodding pillock of a bloke, too daft to be of any use to anyone except someone to clean up toilets for a living, an arse, a toerag, the bane of my existence. To have to go back and erase all that whinging would be some work.

So I said, "Yes, James Potter. Who I used to hate. He's, ah, not so bad after all?"

She could only shake her head.

Eventually we sat at the table, Mum and I on one side, and waited for Petunia and Vernon to join us. I took a sip of water as Mum talked about the heavy rain outside, shifting awkwardly as my wand, which I'd stowed in the waistband of my shorts, poked into my side.

"Smells _sumptuous_," said Vernon as he wobbled into the dining room.

I rolled my eyes.

After everybody sat down and situated themselves, we served salad. Vernon made small talk with my mother, an agonizingly boring conversation which I was thankfully not a part of, before turning his sights on me.

"How are your classes going, Lily? Pet says that you attend a very prestigious private school in London," he said with surprising politeness.

"Well," I said, looking at Petunia. "My private schooling is going splendidly. We recently did a lab in chemistry class, using the essence of frog liver and some armadillo bile - you know, from the stomach; but don't worry, the armadillos were already dead when we extracted it - to catalyze a reaction with powdered leeches. Needless to say it was a _disaster. _We smoked the entire hall out! You should've been there, it was priceless. You would've known what to do in that situation, Vernon, I'm sure."

The table was quiet. I took a bite of green beans, silently delighting in the shock on their faces.

Vernon was the first to clear his throat. "Well, I'm not - "

"Vernon's not too good with chemistry," Petunia steamrolled right over him, her voice flying with her embarrassment. She kicked me under the table and I gave her an impish smile, swirling the water in my glass. Oh, how fun it was to be the freak in the family.

"Petunia tells us you've settled plants with a housing agent?" said Mum, and I was not asked any more questions for the rest of dinner.

Vernon ended up eating any possibilities of leftovers, so all that was left for me to do after dinner was wash empty plates and bowls. He and Petunia escaped into the living room as soon as they were done eating, saving her from having to deal with me any further and depriving me from any chances at joking. I whistled as I cleaned off the silverware, and was almost finished when Mum came up behind me, her glass in hand.

"Next time try to be a little more discreet," she whispered, kissing the top of my head and slipping the glass into the sink.

I grinned up at her. "Somebody needed to mess with him. You and Pet are all over him, it's nauseating. And don't tell me if Pet's happy, you're happy, because you already tried that one and it's rubbish."

"You are your father's child, alright," she said, laughing.

I sprinted up the stairs after the kitchen was clean and barricaded myself in my room, unwilling to make small talk with Vernon all night. A soft hooting was coming from my desk, and with a barely suppressed smile, I skipped across the room and greeted Diana with a little peck on her beak.

"Alright, little one?" I cooed.

She hopped around on my desk. I picked her up and noticed, now that she was sitting on my shoulder, that there was something else sitting on my stack of parchment, something that hadn't been there before. Something that shouldn't have been there since my window was closed and locked, the curtains drawn against the dreary evening sky. Something that kind of made me excited.

An envelope, addressed to me, with a wax seal on the back.

My heart jumped as I saw the ornate letter P on the seal, and I sat on my bed with Diana pecking at my ear. _Potter, _I thought. _Potter, Potter, Potter._

Wasting no more time, I pulled the letter open, almost crying at the briefness of it, and started from the beginning:

_Lily,  
I know I told you that you ought to take your time, but I just wanted to write and say hello. How is your first week of summer going so far? Alright? Peachy? My cousin says that all the time. 'Peachy-keen, James?' To which I always say, 'Get away from me. You're barmy.' Because she is. And also, I am allergic to peaches, so to ask if I'm 'peachy' is quite stupid, if you ask me. I digress.  
There is no point of this letter besides that. (Asking you of your summer, not to inform you of my tendency to break into hives at the mere sight of peaches.) Sirius says that I just miss you, and I suppose that's true, but I'm not supposed to admit that, so pretend that this sentence does not exist. I do not have the energy to get another piece of parchment out.  
Waiting ever so patiently,  
James_

_HE MISSES YOU. I MISS YOU. COME BACK TO ME SOON, FLOWER. - SIRIUSLY, I AM A BLACK MAN  
Hi Lily! Don't ask! - Shiv  
WE'RE SHAGGING. - SIRIUS AS YOUR MOTHER_

I read it twice, a steady stream of laughter shaking my shoulders, and shook my head.

_How do I respond to that?_

I sat down and took up the ruby quill that Dorcas suspiciously left on my desk, only to have it hover over a fresh piece of parchment for a few moments. Diana returned to her perch to wait.

Surprisingly, this felt… right. It wasn't weird - maybe a bit surreal - like it should've been, but his familiar, pointy cursive and undotted i's and the flourish on his name were nice and comforting. Sitting here, trying to think of what to respond with, I felt like this could be the thing to help me get over my hesitance or whatever it was stopping me from taking that next step. I picked up the pen and wrote:

_James,  
If you hadn't cheated last night, I would be having an easier time. You have no one to blame for this wait but yourself.  
My summer is alright so far. I've already slighted myself in my sister's eyes, so it's routine, at least. Dorcas left this morning. I miss her already.  
That's too bad; peaches are my favorite fruit. You could ask me if I were peachy, and I would say, 'Yes, thank you.' Because peaches are delectable.  
In the words of your beloved McGonagall, 'You are a highly lazy specimen of male, Mister Potter.' Whatever has you so lazy as to be unable to summon a piece of parchment? But I forgot that, for some reason, both Sirius and Siobhan are there, so, well, there it is, I guess. I do not have the energy to ask why.  
Boggled and bored,  
Lily_

And, on the same parchment:

_Sirius and Siobhan,  
Please use protection.  
Lily_

Still chuckling to myself, I sent Diana off with a kiss.

I didn't want to sit around and wait until she got back, so I grabbed a towel and headed towards the bathroom to take a shower. Vernon's obnoxious baritone floated up the stairs, making me want for another male voice, something smoother and less slobbering. Turning the water near boiling, I stepped under the showerhead, hissing slightly as the stream hit my skin, and lathered up my hair.

His letter was definitely not awkward, not as I had feared things would be after last night. It was nice. I hadn't thought that things with James could be _nice_, but maybe Dorcas was right. I could ask him out, right? We could go for lunch or dinner or something, maybe for coffee, maybe to a muggle movie, something ordinary people did. Something two people who had an ordinary relationship did.

_James was, ah, quite ready to give up until they talked some sense into him, _Dorcas had said. I knew I didn't want to wait too long to give him some kind of affirmation, but I didn't want to rush into anything. Not when I knew what it was like to break his heart. Definitely not when I knew how confused and worked up I got when I was smacked in the face with things I didn't expect.

_So, okay,_ I resolved, rinsing my hair. _I will ask him out. Preferably soon. But not tonight._

The mirror was fogged when I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my red-skinned body. I wiped it down with my hand, smiling at the berating I'd get from Petunia later about streaks and the necessity of glass-cleaner, and stared at my face, wondering how many new freckles I must've gotten from the start of the summer. There weren't many newborns, and my face was as pale as ever, so I shut the light off and ran to my room, water collecting with my footsteps in the hall. Mum could get me for that later.

Diana swooped in through my waiting window as I was tugging on an oversized t-shirt. I toweled my hair dry before taking the letter from her hands, cozying up against my pillows. The wax seal was in place again. _How pureblood,_ I thought with a smirk.

_Lily,  
Oh, how full of witty repartee are we tonight! My humble apologies for hugging you. Completely uncalled for. Will not happen again. (Though you did not protest at the time and my manhood was pleasantly safe from your knee, which I assume as a success. Yet again, I digress.)  
Dorcas was at your house? How did your wizard-hating muggle sister enjoy that?  
Peaches are the Devil's food. I missed my very first Quidditch match in third year because Sirius snuck a spoonful of peaches in my pudding! It was the worst night of my life. You may not ally with the peaches or we are over.  
Sirius and Siobhan are the reasons I do not have any energy today. We played Black Ball throughout the house for about three hours before my Mum got home and sent me to my room. I do not have the energy to explain.  
I will not be able to respond tonight, so I hope you sleep well, Lily.  
Sincerely yours,  
James_

_YOU'RE ON MY TEAM FOR BLACK BALL THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU, LILY. WE'LL BE ACE. I LOVE YOU MORE THAN JAMES DOES. - SIRIUSLY YOURS, SIRIUS_

I read through this letter several times before locking my window, turning my lamp out, and settling underneath my sheets. I illuminated my wand, however, and read his words again before I could let myself fold the letter up and sit it on my nightstand with the tulip and the ribbon.

_Sleep well, James._

* * *

_A/N: Ugh, and if anybody knows a better way to format 'letters,' i.e. indenting them or whatnot, please, please drop me a PM. But review, review, review! I hope you enjoyed :D_


	8. Wherewithal

_A/N: OKAY. Chapter eight. Sorry for the wait, but I had tons of problems with this thing. However! It's good to note that I have the next four or five chapters outlined and prepared to be written, so I shouldn't be so disorganized and hassled for a while. I know this one isn't as exciting as it should be, but hang in there until next chapter ;)_

_An enormous, huge, gigantic thanks to my beta Zayz, because without her, this story would be a complete mess. You are awesome._

_And THANK YOU to everyone who keeps coming back to read, and to everyone who reviews! You guys make it all worth it._

_As always,  
Mina :)_

_(Also: to anybody else who is just as supremely excited to have The Office come back tonight - I'll meet you at the dinner party!)_

* * *

**EIGHT: WHEREWITHAL**

* * *

Thankfully – miraculously, mercifully – I slept a dreamless sleep that night, free from nightmares of insensible abandonment or a voice whispering to me through a hazy darkness, but woke up with a numb arm and a painful pull in my calf muscle. Stumbling out of bed and narrowly missing smashing my forehead against the nightstand, I made it to the bathroom just in time to have Petunia slam the door in my face.

I did not want to take that as an ill omen (and I really, _really _needed to use the toilet), so I sat in the hallway and pounded on the door until, minutes later, Petunia stormed out with her hair half in rollers and an eyelash curler stuck on her fingers.

"Lily, I swear to God, if you don't stop that incessant –"

Silly Petunia.

I crawled past her and into the bathroom. She didn't have time to stick her foot in the way and, with a giggle, I shut the door. The lock gave a tiny click.

There was a brief, peaceful second where I shook my head at myself, a bit sorry for her but more elated at my quick thinking, and it was after I grinned that Petunia let out a frustrated shriek, throwing herself against the door. Had she been Vernon, it probably would've been more effective, and she probably would've squished me to death or punctured me with a falling splinter of the destroyed door. I gave a happy sigh, leaning against the sink and listening to her shouted threats through the door. _Silly Petunia._

Eventually, though, I used the toilet like I meant to, thought about taking a quick shower just to rile her up a bit more, and brushed my teeth.

"Lily! I'm going to tell Mum!"

"Mum's not even home, Petunia," I said through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Yes, she is. She took off work to come with me for my final dress fitting, remember? She told you last week, but you were too absorbed with your little freak friend to have paid her any attention – "

The urge to open the door and punch her in the face was strong. "Her name is Dorcas."

I could just imagine her sneer on the other side of the door. "Does it matter what her name is?"

"Yes," I snapped. "Do you think I care who Natalie and Fran and Julia are? I could care less, to be frank, but I still make the effort to talk to them. That's what it means to respect people, Petunia. Just because they're friends with _you_ doesn't mean I can't respect what little intelligence they do seem to have."

It was quiet. I rinsed my mouth and set my toothbrush in the cup on the counter before opening the door. She was leaning against the wall, her arms folded tight against her chest. She didn't say anything to me as I passed her, and I didn't say anything to her as she stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"Bloody harpy," I muttered.

Dorcas always said I was unpleasant in the morning, but this was the mother of them all. I was irritable and my calf still felt that pulled muscle; there was a big knot of hair in the back of my head, tempting me to go find some scissors; and I couldn't smell the relieving scent of coffee wafting up the stairs. If Mum hadn't made any this morning, I couldn't be arsed to go down and start up the coffee machine.

Diana hooted at me in the corner.

"I don't need your reprimands," I mumbled, pulling a pair of shorts and a t-shirt on.

She hooted again. I looked up at her.

"I'm not saying sorry."

Her blink was slow, disappointed, and I turned away so she couldn't see me roll my eyes. "Whatever, Di. You want an assignment?"

She flew to perch upon my shoulder, her little talons pricking my skin through my shirt, and I tried to relax my muscles and just breathe so that she would stop worrying so much. Grabbing James' letter from my nightstand, I took a seat at my desk and inked up Dorcas' quill.

_James,  
Yes, Dorcas was here for a few days while her parents were moving house. My wizard-hating sister didn't enjoy it at all. I commandeered the bathroom this morning in retribution for her rudeness, but I still don't think it got through to her. Maybe I need a better plan._

I didn't know what to write after that. All that I had so far was basically responding to his letter, but now what?

_I don't know what to write, to be honest. I doubt you're even awake this early – it's eleven. Gryffindor never really sees you until two on the weekends, at the earliest.  
I hope this letter finds you asleep and Diana pecks a hole in your head.  
Lily_

There was a ghost of a smile on my face as Diana flew into the gray, muggy sky.

Petunia was gone by the time I shuffled downstairs. Her perfume, however, stuck around, floating in all the places she had been – I could only be so glad when her wedding was over and she was out of the house. One more month! I settled for tea in my favorite sunflower mug and settled down on the back porch, free from the overpowering lavender smell inside the house. I pulled a copy of the _Prophet_ off of the little stand between our two Adirondack chairs and got myself comfy.

I skimmed through pages and pages about the Dark Lord, speeches from Ludo Bagman, pleas for the return of missing people, advertisements for Auror Training, and gave up finding something light-hearted until, on the back page, a headline caught my eye. Apparently reporters were well aware of Valarie White's pending arrival to England: her name was splashed on the second page, sans picture (_that's odd_, I thought; _now that I think about it, I've never seen a picture of her before_), the headline reading: _Valarie White, Elusive New Talent from America, Hits Britain Running._

"Valarie White is a stunning twenty-something from the United States," I read. "Her mother and father, originating from Ireland and Australia, respectively, took their young star jet setting around the world throughout her childhood, ultimately settling for the wizarding hub of the States: Massachusetts. With sultry, powerful vocals, it was only a matter of time before White took the WWN by storm. Her most recent single, 'Cloudless Skies,' is one of the most top requested songs on Marki Thompson's hit station. What does White have to say about this? 'It's great,' she gu – "

"Lillian! Lillian, dear, run over here for a second – "

With a sigh, I folded the paper and wrapped a hand around my mug. The grass was pleasantly cool against my bare feet as I padded across the backyard. Mrs. Blanchett, the stereotypical "old woman next door," peered at me through tinted glasses as I reached the fence, her flyaway, peppery hair pulled into what was probably meant to be a ponytail and the hem of her colorful dress brushing against the ground.

"It's Lily," I told her. Every day since I could speak, it's been: "It's Lily, Mrs. Blanchett. Just Lily."

She waved an unconcerned hand. "Would you mind helping me with a little task, dear? Roger is in a foul mood this morning, can't imagine why, made his favorite breakfast and he gets a letter in the post and throws himself into a fit! Gracious me was it startling. Started ranting and tearing the house apart. 'What in heaven's name, Roger,' I said – "

"What do you need help with?" I interrupted, taking a calming sip of my tea.

"Oh! Well, we have some flowers we want to plant. Roger was going to do it earlier – he's taken to gardening recently, inspired by your mum, I s'pose – and he was going to start near that apple tree, over by the shed, before he shut himself up in his study. 'Cor blimey,' I said to him. 'What in heaven's name are you making all this racket for, Roger?' An' he said – "

I closed my eyes. "Give me a few minutes to put some trainers on."

She was still talking when I left her at the fence. Grumbling to myself, I stomped up the porch stairs, dumped my tea in the sink, and tugged on a pair of shoes from the hall closet. It probably wasn't a good idea to go without socks, but I was grumpy and _why did I just agree to that?_

I was halfway through the yard when Diana fell upon me, landing gracefully on my shoulder with a letter on her leg. Wary, I whirled to see Mrs. Blanchett on her porch, knitting and fussing at someone on the telephone, completely unaware.

"Let's not tell the muggles what we are, please," I told Diana, carrying her back to the porch. She hopped onto my lap as I sat down and held out her leg.

_Lily,  
I am insulted! My waking up at two is utter nonsense and you know it. It is half past twelve and I have been awake for ten minutes. And Diana was very pleasant to me, actually, thanks for your concern. My head is delightfully clear of any wounds. (I think she likes me more than you do.)  
It doesn't sound like you've had your coffee. Are you always so grumpy in the morning? I used to think it was just your hostility towards me, but now I'm just worried. We can't have you irritable first thing. Work on that, yeah? It's not attractive.  
Only joking, of course. Definitely an attractive trait. Feisty when you wake up? Excellent.  
Anyway, letter writing is not a hard thing. I've seen you do it all the time. Are you that out-of-sorts from summer, or do you just not know how to write to me? All I can suggest is to speak to me like your friend. I know it's a big difference, but we tried it the other day and it's not so hard, right? How's your summer been? Any big plans? Just tell me what's going on or what you're thinking, and we'll take it from there. You remember what Flitwick always tells the first years: the first spell is always the hardest.  
While you are cranky in the morning, I am overly sentimental. So to save you from more trite clichés, I'll bid you adieu, my fair lily maiden!  
James_

I laughed and ran upstairs to respond. Mrs. Blanchett would be okay for a few minutes.

_James,  
You know me better than to assume I'm anything but unpleasant in the morning.  
And I guess it's not hard to write, exactly, it's just hard to get used to. We were kind of friends last year, but that didn't turn out too well, did it?_

That gave me pause. Was that appropriate to write? Or would I be delving into things better left in the past? He might read it as sarcastic or snobby, but it was the truth. We had been working towards something like a friendship. We'd been able to speak without killing one another, sit side-by-side in the Great Hall during lunches, and work together on schoolwork. It hadn't been entirely horrible, and I hadn't been entirely too welcome to his personality, but it wasn't comfortable either; I always had to watch what I said so that it wouldn't be taken the wrong way and spin into an argument or a duel in the common room.

I twisted the feather quill between my fingers. I had to talk to him like a friend. He seemed to be doing that alright, but then again, he always had. I crumpled up that piece of parchment and started over.

_James,  
How does irritable in the morning equate to feisty?_

No.

_James,  
Of course it's an attractive trait –_

No.

_James,  
I can't believe you remember that! And then after he fell off of his stack of books and charmed himself to float in the air, you and Sirius wanted to try and smashed your faces on the floor. I think that was when Pomfrey knew she'd be treating you for life. Always the geniuses, you and Sirius.  
My summer's been okay so far. It's only, what, the second week? We've got two long, boring months ahead of us. The only plans I have are little get-togethers with Dorcas and Shiv (what was she doing at your house yesterday, anyway?) and enduring my sister's wedding. That one will be fun.  
What about you?  
Lily_

There. That wasn't so hard. We could be friends. I sent Diana off with a kiss and ran down the stairs, ready to lose myself in the joys of gardening with Mrs. Blanchett. I almost killed myself when the telephone rang and I reeled back to catch it, tripping on the track of the sliding glass door and pulling the receiver down with me.

"Ungh – h-hullo?"

"Lillian, darling, are you alright? You sound like you're choking on something; should I send Roger over to check? He's come out of his study – "

I tugged the twisted cord away from my neck and sat up, my legs splayed on the laminate flfoor of the kitchen. "I'm fine, I'm okay. Sorry I took so long, I had to, uh, make an important phone call, but I'll be there – "

"Quite alright, dear, quite alright. I just rang to let you know that you don't have to help with the gardening anymore. I told Roger that you were coming over to help and he flew into one of his fits again, a bunch of papers flying around his room like a hailstorm, and he stomped down those stairs like he was forty again! Haven't seen him move that fast in a while, Lillian, I tell you what – "

I crawled to the glass door to peer across the lawn and, yep, there was old Mr. Blanchett, on all fours underneath his apple tree, a spade in one hand and a packet of seeds in the other. There was something that looked like a fishing tackle box beside him, and every now and again he'd lean over to peer inside the box before resuming his digging. His mouth was moving with unheard words.

Mrs. Blanchett was speaking loud and clear. " – the time he was chasing Paul around the street – that boy was the Devil, I say, but he's grown to be a fine man, working at that paper company in London, he and his wife, what's her name, the blonde one. Clara? Courtney? Anyway, and Roger zipped right down those stairs – "

"Are you sure he doesn't need help?" I asked, crossing my legs like a pretzel. "I'm not busy at the moment. I don't mind."

"Not busy? Don't you have a job, Lillian? I haven't hardly seen you for the past year – did your boss fire you? I don't see why he would, you're a lovely young woman – "

"I was at school, Mrs. Blanchett. Didn't Petunia tell you that?"

She sighed nosily. I watched through the door as she stepped onto their porch with a new handful of yarn and two thick-looking knitting needles in her hands. "That sister of yours was never home, and she would hardly bother talking to me when she was. That's okay, though; I've got you, and Roger and I are getting on fine, so – "

I jumped, gasping, as Petunia's cat, Valentine, brushed against my arm. He yowled loudly before nudging his face at the sliding door. I slid it open and he ran out, his tail standing high in the air as he dashed across the yard.

"Sorry, Mrs. Blanchett," I said, interrupting whatever it was she was saying. "I have to go. Let me know if there's anything else you need, alright?"

"Alright. You have a lovely day, dear."

I hung up the phone with a smile. Despite her mouth, Mrs. Blanchett was a nice woman to be around.

The next few hours were spent peacefully – albeit very boring, but calm. It was weird being in such an empty house. The constant sounds in the Gryffindor tower –people talking and shouting and laughing, owls hooting, the fire crackling, books being read and games being played – were so ingrained in my everyday life that this silence was disconcerting and strange. I didn't know what to do with myself, so I watched televison for a while, tidied up the kitchen, read some more of the _Prophet_, and wrote Dorcas a letter. Diana hadn't returned yet by the time I finished, and as five o'clock tolled and Mum got home, take-out dinner in her arms, I started to get nervous.

_You're being silly_, I told myself, pushing it out of my mind while chewing a piece of sweet and sour chicken.

"So how'd your day go, Lil?" Mum asked.

I shrugged, poking at an egg roll with my chopsticks. "Boring. I talked to Mrs. Blanchett for a while. Owled a few friends. It's still kinda strange being home."

"You think about getting a job?"

_What?_

"You're going to be here all summer, just sitting around the house," Mum continued. She took a sip of water. "And you're going to be out there in the real world soon – "

I kind of tuned out after that, a little buzz starting behind my ears. I was seventeen, legally of age in the wizarding world. This time next year, I'd be going out on my own, looking for some sort of job, independent and completely by myself in a world that didn't like my kind in the first place.

My deep breath was too loud even in my own ears.

"No pressure, honey. Just something to think about."

I tossed Mum a thankful smile and stood up, taking my little box of rice with me. "I think I'm going to go upstairs for a while. Thanks for dinner."

Diana was waiting as I opened my door, and I sat on my bed, sitting my Chinese food on the nightstand, to grab her out of the air.

"Come here, you," I murmured, untying the parchment from her leg.

_Lily,  
Sorry for the wait. Something went down here for a while, but don't worry: disaster averted! James Potter always solves his problems.  
(I haven't deflated my ego – or my genius! – as much as you think I have. You have to admit that eleven-year-old James was a pretty bright kid.)  
You're not going to her wedding, are you? After all that stuff you told me about her? I know I told you to take your time, and I do hope that you are thinking about what I said, but I have an innocent proposal: why don't you come to my mother's gala instead? I do need a date, and you are the only person I would like to have with me. And Mum is looking forward to seeing you again – you can't say no to that, can you?  
James_

_Date date date date date._

It's all I saw. _Date. I do need a date…_ I knew it was coming – it was only a matter of time – but the thought of going on a date with him made me panic. And not just a date: a date to his mother's gala! Where I'd probably have to meet his father and most of his family and all their friends! And _dance_!

Wide-eyed and unfocused, I stared at Diana.

"I would be his date," I said, the words like marbles in my mouth. "I've got to ring Dorcas."

It was with frantic hope that I practically ran down the stairs. Dorcas' parents were both magical and, having just moved, it was highly unlikely that they would have a muggle telephone connected already. She had given me a number I could find her at before she left, so I ran back upstairs to grab the little slip of paper on my desk before running into the kitchen to grab the receiver.

Mum had called out to me as I ran past the living room entrance. "Lily?"

"I'm okay! I just need to ring Dorcas."

_Date? Seriously? …I wouldn't be panicking if I wasn't considering it._

"C'mon," I muttered, glaring at the telephone. The stupid plastic ring wasn't moving fast enough, spinning as if it were slowing down after each number. As it rang on the other end, I bit my lip and twisted the cord around my hand.

_Date. Really, Lily, calm the hell down. He just wants to be around you. He always has, but this would be, like, a date. With James Potter._

The doorbell buzzed several times as I glanced outside to the back porch, the phone still ringing in my ear. I heard Mum make a stifled little gasp as I hung up the receiver – frustrated at Dorcas, at James, at myself – and almost had a heart attack when I stomped down the hall and looked up.

Mum had answered the door. There was someone grinning madly in the doorway.

"Evans! This your Mum? Bloody good-looking bird, you are, Mrs. E. Just like your – your girl here. Evans. Lily. Good-looking bird. Whew. What is that smell?"

I couldn't – _what?_ Mum was shocked. I'm sure I looked the same.

"What the hell are you _doing_ here?"


	9. Bubbly

_A/N: Ahaha, I was not clever about the ending of last chapter in any way; you all were right! Here is chapter nine (I can't believe I've gotten to nine already, it's crazy), and we're still going a little slow for now, but I've already gotten the Big Date chapter written, so when we get to that, I won't make you all wait too long ;) But we've got one or two more chapters until then, so hang in there! Lily's coming around, slowly but surely. _

_Thank you all so much, again and again, for reading. Welcome to you new readers, I'm glad you're here; and thanks to those of you who've been with me from the start! I love reading your reviews and responding to them all :D (I have 100 reviews already! THAT is the crazy part - you all are way too awesome.) And to Zay, who I couldn't do without! Love ya, chica!_

_As always!  
Mina :)_

_(Also: my horrible French translations are at the bottom, if you'd like, though I tried to make it easy to understand so that you wouldn't have to pause and scroll all the way to the bottom.)_

* * *

**NINE: BUBBLY**

* * *

It's no secret: Gryffindors like to drink. After victorious Quidditch matches, after losing Quidditch matches, on the weekends, after particularly stressful tests, on holidays, on "unofficial Gryffindor holidays" (such as the one called Friday), after exams… The _why _hardly mattered, just the _when _and the _how. _

So when Sirius Black showed up at my front door reeking of some hideously foul odor, his shirt tail hanging out and buttoned improperly, it wasn't the fact that he was completely pissed that shocked me: it was why he was here, at _my_ house, in the middle of a predominately muggle neighborhood, staring between my mother and I with that shit-faced grin.

Still, I couldn't keep the question from falling from my loose jaw. "Are you _drunk?_"

He kind of stumbled into the doorframe, reaching out to grasp – or grope – at my mother, and I moved forward before he could tumble face-first onto the floor. His arm gripped at my shoulder as he steadied himself. "_Cela serait une évaluation precise_," he said. There was definitely alcohol on his breath.

"English, please," I growled, pushing his back against the wall so he could stand on his own. "Or do you usually speak French when your tongue's loose?"

"Oh, Evans, don't tempt me," he purred. I smacked his hand away and stepped back a pace.

Mum finally snapped out of it. "Is this James?"

I spun, hoping the horrified look on my face did not match the one on hers. "No! _No_. This is Sirius, James' best mate. They're, ah, well – Sirius isn't drunk that _often._"

"Ple – peas – nice to meet you, Mrs. Evans. Lovely night tonight. Deee-lovely. As are you. _Vous êtes aussi beau comme planète. Ou une constellation. C'a pu être blessant. Queest-ce que je dis?"_

"Quinn, who's comparing you to a planet?" Dad's eyes grew as he stepped into the hallway. "Who is this?"

I closed my eyes. This was not happening.

"Monsieur Black du Grimmauld," Sirius slurred, tipping forward into what I think he meant to be a bow. His momentum carried him too far forward, however, and I caught him around the waist before his face could hit the linoleum in the foyer. Hoisting him upright with a grunt, I kept my arm around his waist and he slung a heavy hand onto my shoulder.

"I go to school with him," I mumbled, readjusting my stance as he swayed slightly. "This is Sirius."

"Your daughter is lov – _hic! _Wow, that was a good one. Evans! Of the Lily variety! Ring James so he can hear me hiccup. Rememmm – remember that last week of school, with the bottles of Firewhiskey that you wouldn't drink? They were good," he said, gazing down at me. "You – _hic! _Merlin, do you have any of that stuff we had after that one Quidditch match? The good stuff Garrett got that made me hiccup bubbles? Good stuff, that was."

Mum blinked. "I'm going to get him some water. Figure out if he has anywhere to go, Lily, so that we can get him home safe."

He hung onto me, quiet, until Mum came back from the kitchen.

"Have you been driving tonight, Sirius?" She asked, holding the water out for him.

Sirius grinned. "Only by broomstick, and, well, tonight I only have _my _broomstick, but I haven't seen any experienced birds yet tonight – _hic!__ – _but Evans here might do well. How's about it, Evans?"

"Oh my _God_, Sirius," I said as my Mum's face contorted. "That's my _mother._"

"So you aren't saying no?"

I looked up at him. "Are you kidding me?"

"I'm completely serious. Sirius. All of the above. Uh, wow, Evans, have you been working out?"

Mum raised her eyebrow, as if asking me if this was an ordinary thing. I put my free hand up in a placating gesture. Sirius gripped my shoulder with the sudden movement. This was the last thing I needed right now. "He's probably had a long night, Mum? I'm just going to take him outside for some fresh air and then help him find a way home. Yeah?"

She looked apprehensive of letting me go anywhere with Sirius alone, but eventually nodded and let us be.

"Alright, Black," I said, tightening my arm around his waist. I turned him toward the door before a thought struck me. "You have your wand?"

"I have _a_ wand, yes," he smirked.

_Merlin save me._

"Where is it?" I asked, and, before he could interrupt with what I knew would be something lewd and completely inappropriate, "Besides in your pants. I really don't want to have you around all night, so let's just hurry this process along."

"That's what she said."

"Ugh, you're so – will you just take it out, please? So I can summon mine and we can leave and get you sober? And so my mother can stop spying on us from the kitchen?"

"Uh."

"Sirius," I started slowly. It seemed like he was coming off of his silly-drunk phase, something I was glad he had worn off by the time he had decided to arrive unexpected at my front door. It kind of made me pity his sad little mind, so I spoke slowly. "Where is your wand?"

"I don't know."

"Then how did you get here?"

"I Apparated."

"If you Apparated, you had to have had your wand. Where is it?"

"Are you molesting me, Evans?"

"I'm looking for your bloody wand, Black. Keep your hands off me."

"My wand is further down."

"Ugh!" I grunted and pushed him against the wall. "Wait here. Do not go any further into this house, do not speak, and if you have to hurl, go outside."

I ran upstairs, tugged on a pair of trainers, grabbed my own wand off of my nightstand, cursed myself for being without it in the first place, and stormed back down the stairs. Sirius was leaning against the wall where I left him, humming an off-key tune and staring glassily at the wreath on the front door.

"I wonder if Dumbledore would consider wearing a wreath on his head. You know, like Jesus," he said, reaching out to pull the wreath off the door.

I yanked on his arm before he could touch it and pulled us outside. On the porch, I did a quick (and probably weak) Sobering Charm on him. He stumbled on the porch steps a little, but his eyes were more clear, and he gripped my waist as we reached the walk. I had to snake an arm around his torso as he leaned against me, his footsteps a bit uneven yet. The sky was dark already, a small spattering of stars already glowing, and I sighed, as we trudged to the sidewalk, thinking of how I was never going to be able to escape these guys. _Ever._

And it was strange. Everything about these people was strange. Peter showing up unexpected last week, James running into us at Diagon Alley, Sirius stumbling onto my front porch, drunk and groping. It made me wonder what kind of trick the universe was trying to pull; to some extent, I believed in Fate, that everything is basically tied together in some way. So to have the three of them thrown into my summer, where it didn't make sense for them to be, gave me pause. I wanted to analyze it, but to do so would've given me a headache because I already knew the outcome: it couldn't be rationalized.

We walked for a few minutes in silence. It was hard to stay mad at him – for some inexplicable reason, despite all the horrible things he'd done and all the lewd things he'd said in the past few years that we'd known one another, it was always easy to forgive him. I guess that was why the choice had been so easy, when he turned up at the door: help him or turn him away? There hadn't really a choice, because somehow, I knew that he would've done the same for me.

I was brimming with questions, though, as we walked through the neighborhood, his footing growing more sure with every block. The first one that had fallen out of my mouth was probably the most pressing, the most unpredictable: What _was_ he doing here? It was obvious that he was drunk – that had been a question forced by sheer surprise. He had been with James the last time I saw him, what happened with that? Why didn't he go to James – why had he come to me, instead? I couldn't let it go, and as every glance at his hardening face put a little more hesitance in my heart, I didn't know if I could voice it.

Still: he showed up at my door drunk and tried to grope my mother. I didn't think that was excusable.

"How are you feeling?" I asked instead.

"_Je suis étourdi,_" he mumbled.

I sighed. "English, please."

"Sorry. We speak French a lot in my house. I said that I'm dizzy." I couldn't help but notice the ice in his eyes and the involuntary grip on my waist as he said it. "Shouldn't have went to the pub."

I nudged us gently to the right, taking the sidewalk that would lead us to the park. "Why'd you go?"

"Because we speak French in my house," he bit out.

I could tell he didn't want to talk about it. "But you're still sixteen."

He just looked at me.

"Right," I mumbled. "Magic."

He heaved a great sigh and wiped his face. Wincing, he shook his head, and as I squinted at him underneath a passing streetlight I could see the faint tint of a bruise around his eye that I hadn't noticed before.

My feet stopped. "Did you get in a fight?"

"Observant, Evans," he muttered, pulling me along. I couldn't fight the strength of his arm; we kept walking. "I just so happened to run into Mel at the bar. Seems I'm too damn chivalrous for my own good."

I could only shake my head. Siobhan's ex-fiance Mel deserved what he got, if it were simply an inebriated bar brawl and not a wizarding duel. Judging by the single bruise on Sirius' face – hidden by a glamour, I supposed – and the fact that he wasn't in Azkaban already, I could assume Mel at least still had a pulse.

We arrived at the park, taking seats on a bench. There was space between us now, and as he slumped further down into the seat, his head at the level of my shoulder, I couldn't hold back a laugh.

"What?"

"I just – this is ridiculous. What are you doing here?"

It looked like he had to think about that for a minute. "You were the first person I thought of. I knew you wouldn't give me shit and tell me everything would be okay, all that bullshit James goes on about when he thinks he can make everything better."

I sat back. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"So… did you come to talk to me, or did you just come for a shag?"

It worked; he laughed. "James would murder me. He wouldn't even bother waiting for me to sleep. He'd probably forego the Avada and just strangle me."

"Yeah."

"I don't think I want to tell you what's all been happening, though - it's a long story, and it's probably better for you if you didn't know. I just..."

He just needed company. I nodded, even though he wasn't looking. "That's - yeah. Okay. But if you do - "

"Okay."

I pulled my legs up onto the bench and crossed them, leaning my elbows on my knees and looking out at the dark, abandoned swing set. I thought that not looking at one another made this easier – it was an odd enough situation as it was. I mean, Sirius and I had never been close, but his personality made it difficult to feel awkward around him. Him coming here, and his reason for thinking of me, kind of made sense: I've never lied to him, and he's always been straight with me in return.

_I have strange relationships with these people._

"Has the world stopped spinning?" I asked.

"It's a little blurry, but I can think straight now, at least. My mouth tastes like troll feet."

The humor in his eyes was dulled. "Pleasant."

"It was pleasant on the way down. I hope it doesn't decide to come back up," he said, closing his eyes. "I just needed somewhere to go before I head to James' house. I don't want his Mum seeing me like this."

I couldn't imagine Elaine Potter being anything but motherly to her son's best friend, even in this state. "Why?"

"She's… I just don't want to go there pissed and bruised to hell. So, you know, thanks."

"Gryffindor chivalry, Black," I murmured, smiling.

There was another lulling pause. I thought about how different this side of Sirius was, how much darker and less lively. Was this an after-drinking state or a façade or was this really him, underneath all those layers of suppressed snobbery and grins and witty quips? He looked trodden and wary, sitting here with his hair mussed and his glinting, steely eyes. Not intimidating, not really, but more… like a different person. Someone I hadn't gotten to see before.

"Listen," he began. "About James – "

I groaned. "Do we have to talk about him? I thought we were bonding."

"Afraid so. And what else is there to talk about? We don't have anything else in common."

I frowned, returning my gaze to the playground. _In common_. Like James was a part of me just as much as he was a part of Sirius. "Of course we do. We just… we've never taken the time to talk. You're actually quite decent when you're not being an obnoxious git."

He rewarded me with a smirk. "You're quite decent when you're not being an uptight harpy."

"I deserve that."

"As do I."

"You do know, though, how happy he is?" he said, his voice soft.

I didn't respond. Maybe Wise Sirius was an aftereffect of the alcohol, too.

"We don't have to talk about if you don't want to, but you do need to know how much it means to him, you giving him a chance like this."

"I'm not – "

"And if you're leading him on, Lily…" He trailed off. The tone of his voice, calm though it was, scared me a little.

I stared at him. "I'm not leading him on, Sirius. But you've got to understand – you and James both – that I can't just… I can't just _do _this. It's not as easy for me as it is for James."

"I know."

Our pauses were becoming more frequent. I fidgeted on the bench, my legs falling asleep. Stretching them out gave me little pinpricks on my skin, the nearest streetlight making them glow white just a bit.

"Are you going with him to the gala?" he asked, stretching his legs out in the same manner. The precise press in his dark jeans and the lack of wrinkles in his shirt, despite him having just come from a pub, made me a little envious of his easy perfection.

Watching him wasn't going to erase his question, though. I hadn't thought about it since I had received the letter. I had pushed it away, hidden it inside my mind. "It figures he told you," I mumbled.

He pointed to himself. "Best mate."

"Yeah, yeah."

"So?"

"So," I sighed. "I don't – this is strange. Talking about this with you. And you're drunk, so you're not – you're not really thinking clearly, are you? I think you should go to Potter's house now, it's getting really late and my Mum is probably worried."

"Lily."

He sounded disappointed. I didn't want to look at his face, so I stood up and held out my wand, toeing the ground with my shoe. "Here. You'll need to Apparate, I suppose. Too much Black in you to take the Knight Bus."

"I have my wand," he said. "It's in my trousers."

"Sirius – "

He pulled his wand out of a similar loop in the belt of his jeans. I blushed.

"Told you."

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

We stood across from one another, under the dim glow of the streetlight at some late hour of the night, two people brought together by unseen forces. Perhaps it was Fate. Perhaps it was just a string of random events. Either way, I knew I'd seem him differently from now on, now that I got to see this other side of him. He wouldn't be a stranger anymore. I knew his obnoxious side, his silly side, his charming side, and his drunk side, but now I saw a little bit of his real side. It felt like a privilege.

"You're okay to Apparate home?" I asked.

He smirked. "Worried about me, Evans?"

"I'm worried that you'll be splinched and the top half of your drunken self will scare the life out of Mrs. Potter," I said, rolling my eyes. "I like her too much for her to suffer through that."

"Ah," he said, nodding solemnly. "Right then. I should get on that."

I laughed and held out my hand to squeeze his briefly. "You're alright, Black."

"Well." He smiled, tugging on my hand to plant a sloppy kiss on my forehead. "You're not so bad yourself, Evans. Be safe getting home."

We dropped each others hands, replacing them with wands, and before he could make the sharp turn for Apparition, I grabbed his arm. "Tell James… Tell him I just need more time."

"Will do."

He popped out of existence, off to flirt with Mrs. Potter, I was sure, and I turned away from the park, my mind full. It took me a minute of jittery, wary footsteps and a block of sidewalk before I realized I could just Apparate home myself, and after another calming block, I turned sharply and arrived home.

* * *

_Mmkay, my French is terrible and elementary at best - I'm a ton stronger with Spanish - but I tried! If any of you speak fluent French or know what you're doing, please don't hesitate to correct any of this nonsense :P_

_"Cela serait une évaluation precise" - That would be an accurate evaluation  
"Vous êtes aussi beau comme planète. Ou une constellation. C'a pu être blessant... Queest-ce que je dis?" - You are as beautiful as a planet. Or a constellation. This could be offensive... What am I saying?  
"Je suis étourdi" - I'm dizzy_


	10. Latecomer

_A/N: Chapter ten! Eleven and twelve are almost done. They're_ _titled Ebullient and Tallulah; take that however you'd like :)_

_You guys are awesome. I have no more words._

_As always,  
Mina :)_

* * *

**TEN: LATECOMER**

* * *

Dorcas rang earlier this morning as I was slamming around the kitchen, looking for the coffee machine. She picked up the panic in my voice immediately, though I thought I had successfully buried it somewhere in my own denial, and questioned me with a frank, "What's happened now?"

"You know," I said, hopping up onto the kitchen counter next to the dreadfully slow, percolating coffee machine. "You could've answered your phone yesterday, when I _needed you._"

"Sorry," she said with as much sarcasm as she could muster. Which wasn't a lot. "I wasn't home. I'm actually at Siobhan's."

I frowned. "What're you doing at Shiv's?"

"She needed someone to talk to." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "She's taking this thing with Mel harder than I thought she was."

"It's a good thing Sirius beat the tar out of him," I said, absentmindedly twisting the telephone cord around my ankle.

"Yeah – what?"

"Yeah. Surprise. Sirius showed up at my doorstep yesterday. He'd been to the pub," I began. I'd been ready to demean him for a good five minutes as habit called for, but the way he had talked to me yesterday, as if we weren't just bickering teenagers who only pretended to get along because we shared a house and some mutual friends and maybe a few things in common – maybe that made us friends. "Seems he needed someone, too."

Dorcas paused. "He was drunk? That makes sense."

I didn't know how much I wanted to share – how much I wanted to give away about how Sirius Black and I might be friends, or something like it – so I just shrugged and made a noncommittal "hmm" into the phone. She'd know how to take it.

"That's not it, is it?"

"No. Um. There's something else?"

"…Yeah?"

"Something else that I, uh, don't know what to do with," I said, twirling the curly telephone cord restlessly between my fingers. "It's a letter. Or the end of a letter. The beginning was okay until he started getting into the date thing – "

I knew I wouldn't get away with rushing through the explanation. Dorcas made a tiny gasp; I could see her wherever she was in Shiv's flat, holding up her palm: _Wait._

"Date? Did he ask you out?"

"Kind of?" I hedged.

"'Kind of,'" she mumbled under her breath. "There is no 'kind of,' Lily. It's a date or it's not."

"DATE?"

I dropped the cord and ground the heel of my palm into my forehead. "Please tell me I am just imagining Siobhan's voice right now. It would be the best thing for my sanity, Dorcas. Lie to me, if you have to. Is Siobhan there?"

"Uh, no?"

"Lily's going on a date? With who? With James? Did he ask her? Or did she ask him? Because that would be so much – "

Dorcas' sigh was loud enough to cover most of Siobhan's garbled voice in the background. "Listen, I'm staying the night here – why don't you come over and we can talk about this? Shiv – "

There was a scuffle on the other end of the line before a shout and the sound of the receiver sliding across the floor. I leaned back against the kitchen cabinets and knew I'd just lost Dorcas.

"Lily, you're coming over," Siobhan commanded, slightly breathless. "Bring a bag and your toothbrush and whatever else you need because I don't have any extra shit for both you _and _Dork. And bring some ice cream. And alcohol. And if you could drop by the market and grab some marmalade and a bag of pretzels and maybe – "

I hung up the receiver. It rested with a satisfying _click!_

_**-QS-**_

The band was called The Chafed Witch Paraplegic and on the other side of the door, I was sure Siobhan was head banging with enough force to knock herself out. She'd played this very song ("Shut Up And Die Already, Nicholas Flamel") on repeat for days on end in our dorm for two weeks straight this past April, when they'd first made their big break, and I noted with a sigh that I'd begun humming along with the chorus since stepping out of the stairwell.

But it was better than the entire Abba album that Petunia had been playing on repeat since… forever. I hefted my duffle bag over my shoulder and thanked God and Merlin both that Mum had graciously allowed me to escape my sister's ever-growing wedding obsession and the prison that had become my bedroom to come visit Siobhan's London flat. It was a necessary meeting, I had told her. And it was. I should've been able to figure this James thing out by myself, but I kept getting stuck on one phrase: _I need more time._

It was a cop-out, a time-waster, an absolute lie. But I didn't know what else was holding me back.

So it was with mixed feelings that I stood in front of Siobhan's front door. It was intimidating. The apartment building itself had seemed innocuous enough when I had finally found it on Levy Street, but now that I was looking at it… It wasn't just the peeling gray paint of the door or the rusty peephole or the crooked 4C that looked like it had been chewed on – though they were certainly alarming in their own rights – but the two deadbolts and large, dented door handle were enough to make me wonder what type of neighbors she had to put up with if this much protection was needed.

I raised my hand to knock, really, really trying not to cringe at the thought of what I'd find _behind _the door (Dorcas would've warned me, right?), when it whisked open and the overpowering smell of incense floated along on a mish-mashed chorus of guitars and drums and screaming and smashed me full in the face. _Welcome to your home for the next two days!_

My lungs panicked and I had to take a step back. "God, Shiv, what – "

"Ginger incense." She grinned up at me, the kohl around her brown eyes smudging in the corners. "Like it?"

It wouldn't be worth it to lie. "No," I said, and pushed past her, dropping my bag in the entryway. My wand was in my hand the next second, first turning down the screaming Wireless and then clearing away the odor and the stick of incense burning in the corner of the small living room.

"Have I told you to make yourself at home?" she snapped, grabbing for my wand.

I held it high over my head, grinning at the dark look on her face. Siobhan was a tiny, tiny creature, but she fought nasty when people used her height against her. She fought nasty anyway, actually, which is probably one of the reasons we were friends in the first place. We hadn't liked one another at first – none of the Gryffindor girls did, really, as she had complained for much of the first year that she was truly a Slytherin – but in third year things had changed.

She had gotten into an argument with a fifth year Slytherin girl about some inane thing that I can't remember anymore, but seemed momentous at the time; later, in the hospital wing, I brought her some chocolate frogs and her homework and, because she was bed-ridden and therefore less likely to injure me, I told her that next time she oughtn't run her big mouth. She stared at me hard for a few moments, then handed me a chocolate frog and said, "You're helping me with this homework." And it's been a mutual, loving, caring relationship ever since.

"Lily, you bitch, give me that damn wand before I knee you in the crotch!"

"Watch your mouth, Siobhan Rinelle Delaney!" Dorcas crowed from another room.

I laughed. The _only_ reason I was able to hold that wand over my head for more than five seconds was the case of butterbeer sitting next to my duffel bag. I knew she had wanted some kind of strong liquor, but there was no way I was going to go buy Firewhiskey when I knew she'd just get pissed and pass out at the end of the night.

"Can you please not light any more incense?" I asked.

She glowered at me before letting her feet remain firmly on the ground. "Put your stuff in your room," she growled before stalking off, her too-long jeans dragging on the hardwood floors.

Smiling, I looked around first. I had seen it in pictures, of course, but then it had been one of those _if I could have any flat, anywhere…_ dreams. From the outside, I couldn't have imagined this being anybody's idea of the Ultimate Dream Home, but now that I was inside, safely bolted in, I could see how it had charmed Siobhan from the start.

It was small and colorful and decorated with posters and flowers and paintings and an intricate Persian rug on the light wooden floor; the walls were painted a deep, blood-warming crimson, something that could only be described as Gryffindor – something she'd probably chalk up to needing familiarity than actual, hidden affection for her own house; the furniture was mismatched and looked dangerously comfortable; the single window in the living room was large and, when the sun came out, I could tell it would light the whole room up; the tiny kitchen was separated from the living room by a small bar, and Siobhan had already hung pictures on the refrigerator. I laughed when I started looking at them all.

"Well?"

Siobhan, biting her lip and dancing from one foot to another in the hall, had snuck back in. I grinned, so oddly pleased to see that she was actually nervous – unshakeable Siobhan, nervous! – that we would like her flat, and pulled her into a rare hug.

"It's lovely. I'm glad your parents agreed to this," I said, her ever-shocking blonde hair in my face. "Though why they'd let _you _live by yourself is puzzling."

She pushed me away. "Why are you here again?"

Dorcas finally emerged from wherever she'd been hiding. "Sorry, I was working on something. So, what do you think?"

"I think I'm hungry. What do you have to eat?" I asked, opening cabinets in search of something edible.

Siobhan hopped up onto a counter and poked a toe into my rear end. "Do you really think you should be eating, fat ass? I noticed you didn't bring anything but butterbeer."

I gasped. "You're horrible! I'm not _fat_. I'm just not all muscle like Dorcas or scrawny skin and bone like you."

"It's, what, three in the afternoon? Too early for dinner, too late for lunch," Dorcas said, watching with an amused smile as I tried to stare at my backside in the reflection of the oven door. "Lily, you're fine. We can find something to make here."

The counter was cold against my legs as I perched next to Siobhan, watching Dorcas shuffle through the refrigerator.

"Tell me about this date, fatty," she said, nudging me with her shoulder. "I'm intrigued."

The delight in her eyes was nothing close to intrigued – elated, delighted, more like. Definitely more involved than a third person should be. I sighed before pulling a piece of parchment out of my back pocket and shoving it into her hands. That would be easier than trying to explain everything.

It was quiet for a moment while she read; Dorcas, having abandoned her search, peered over her arm. I read along with them in my mind and tried to prepare myself for their reactions, whatever they'd be.

Siobhan was done first, of course, while Dorcas took the note from her hands and read it again, slower, a second time.

_Date._

Siobhan grinned at me. "I think you should go."

"I don't – _I can't_. I don't even know when it is – "

"Week after July fourth."

" – and I don't have anything to wear – "

"We'll take you to get fitted for dress robes. Honestly, like we wouldn't take care of you. _We _wereinvited too."

" – and I don't think it's time yet, at all. It's completely the wrong time for this – "

"It's been two weeks since you knew you fancied him, Lily," Dorcas cut in, squeezing my knee. Even when I was sitting on the counter I still wasn't as tall as she was, and I leaned forward and put my head on her shoulder.

It hit me, then, how similar this situation was to two weeks ago, when we had been sitting in my kitchen at home in the early hours of the morning. That time, I had been trying to deal with the fact that I fancied him, more than I should; that time, I had been trying to just figure out this new gravity, this new tug around something other than myself, the way his voice lingered in my head easily, as if, even unconsciously, I had wanted it there.

I'd argued with myself so fiercely about what it all meant and the nuances of the situation – what he'd said, what I'd said, the _what ifs_ and _whys _and _hows _too time-consuming and vast – that I hadn't let myself _feel_. Instead of letting go of it and following the invisible track that would've lead me, slowly and inevitably, to him, I had grasped it with both of my stubborn hands and tried to pick every little piece of it apart. It was what I probably shouldn't have done, but my nature wouldn't have allowed me to handle it any other way. I was methodical; I analyzed things before I did them; I evaluated, considered, _then _I felt.

And it had made me cry at first, the overwhelming newness of it all, but underneath that was a little bit of relief, and maybe some anticipation.

If I _had _to analyze it, it was far easier to think of it as an assignment rather than something so personal. If I could just separate myself from the oddness of the whole situation, of fancying the bloke I had sworn up and down Great Britain I'd never, _ever _give a chance to, maybe it wouldn't be so hard to come to terms with the fact that I _did _want to give him a chance.

Dorcas rubbed my back, and Siobhan hopped off the counter to fiddle around with the Wireless, something soft and unlike her playing from the living room. It was pathetic, the way they were circling around to support me; usually it was the other way around: I'd defend Dorcas when she was being meek or stupidly weak-willed, defend Siobhan when her mouth was leading her into trouble too big for it or herself. But now they were here for me when I needed them, and I don't think I would've liked it any other way.

"What should I do?" I asked Dorcas. Because I couldn't let this lie anymore; it wasn't fair to him.

I heard Siobhan muttering spells and panicked before the gentle scent of vanilla candles floated into the air. I saw her out of the corner of my eye, a flash of black shirt and blonde hair, and jumped a little when she appeared, a short moment later, back at my side.

"I think what the question is," Siobhan said, cracking open a bottle of butterbeer. "What does this mean to you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Can you be serious, please?"

She laughed. "Completely serious. I can just see him saying that, though: Lily, _what does this mean to you_?"

"Bugger off, Shiv, you're not helping," Dorcas said, taking a hand off my back to smack her bony knee. "I invited her here to help her, not to torture her."

"You invited her to _my _flat," she pointed out. "But fine. Lily, if you're going to be a prude about this – which, Merlin, it's James Potter, he's not exactly the kind of bloke you ought to be a prude about, if you know what I mean – then maybe you should see him before the gala. You know? Get to know him a little more, rub some elbows – "

"By which she definitely does _not _mean anything crude – "

Siobhan rolled her eyes. "Maybe I do. You think about things too much, Lily, it's astounding – you think and you think and you _think _but nothing ever gets bloody done because by the time you think you're done thinking about something, the problem isn't a problem anymore. And if you think about _this _too long, then James will have moved on and then where will you be?"

I stared at her.

_I can't keep doing this if it's for nothing, Lily._

Stop thinking. That's what I needed to do. I needed to stop thinking about the logistics of this all – there weren't any – and just let it come to me. And I would react with my heart, not my head. Feel it. Stop thinking.

"Okay," I said.

Dorcas lifted my head from her shoulder. "Okay?"

I smiled. It was kind of weak, and I knew I was trying for it, but it was there. "I, uh, when he ran into us in Diagon Alley, I told him that I wanted it to go somewhere. By that time Sirius came by and ruined it all, probably saved me before I admitted something too embarrassing, but James told me to take my time. And I know I fancy him, to some extent, so, well, what's the use waiting for so long, right?"

A second went by. It was enough time to doubt myself, this new pact I had made – _feel, don't think_ – but Dorcas smiled and Siobhan smiled and it was bolstering.

"Okay," Siobhan said.

"Okay," Dorcas said. There was an odd light in her eyes. She took to the hallway, muttering to herself, and came back quickly with a piece of parchment and a quill. "Here's what we're going to do."

"A list?" Siobhan grinned. She was notorious for making various kinds of lists – what she needed to accomplish in the day, what teachers she hated, which of her boyfriends "shagged the best" – and leaving them laying about. In some instances it was helpful, but others… we got detention for one of her lists, something having to do with Professor McGonagall in various places of the castle… I didn't want to think about it.

"No, we're not making a list. Lily's scared to go to the gala – "

"I'm not _scared_ – "

She gave me a pointed look. "Lily's _scared _to go to the gala with James, especially in front of all those people and his mum and dad and family, so she's going to spend a little time with him before that. To get used to him, so to speak."

"To warm up to him, so to speak," said Siobhan, grinning.

I sighed. "Ha. Clever."

"We're going to write him a letter," Dorcas said. "Well, Lily's going to write him a letter, and we're just going to assist. So, Lily, here you go."

Feeling as if I were five again, in a grade school class where the teacher would take my hand to teach me how to write the alphabet correctly, I took the quill from Dorcas and stared at the empty piece of parchment.

Dorcas laughed. "Keep it simple."

"Don't tell him all your secrets at once. No 'I want to shag your brains out' yet, keep that until the third date, at least," Siobhan supplied, draining the last drops of butterbeer from her bottle.

"Thanks ever so much, Shiv."

After a while, and several burned pieces of parchment later, the one I had settled on was the least (or most, I couldn't decide) pathetic:

_James,  
Would you like to meet me in London for coffee tomorrow?  
Lily_

"Nice and simple, with no promises of anything afterwards," Siobhan said. "I approve. Now let's send this thing off and get to our ice cream and movie. You did bring the ice cream, didn't you?"

"No," I said, slightly breathless at the thought of what I was about to do.

She sighed, jumped off the counter to stomp the three paces it took to get to the other side of the kitchen, yanked open the empty freezer, and grunted. "Great."

"We don't need ice cream," Dorcas said.

Siobhan squinted her eyes. "I will be back in ten minutes. There's a market around the corner, and I will go get the ice cream that we _need_ and you will not be partaking in any."

I couldn't help but give a soft laugh. "Does this mean it's just you and me, Shiv?"

"Yes?" she said, as if it were the most common sense.

She grabbed her keys and her wand and was out the door, the locks clicking ominously behind her, before disappearing down the hall.

Dorcas turned to me. "You okay?"

"I'll be okay once this is gone so that I don't have a chance to change my mind," I said, thrusting the folded piece of parchment at her. "Take it and do with it what you will. I'll go start the movie. You think she'll want to watch _Paper Moon_ again?"

"Probably," Dorcas called from the hallway.

I busied myself with readying the movie and thinking about what tomorrow would be like, if he accepted, and was sitting on the large, overstuffed couch when Dorcas returned.

"Alright, all taken care of. I'm expecting an answer within ten minutes – any bets?"

I laughed. That was a solid estimate, and just as I told her so, Siobhan swung into the door, arms laden with plastic bags.

"Stupid, bloody muggles," she muttered, dropping her keys and her wand on the kitchen counter. "I hate having to appear muggle to them when it'd be much easier to just float the damn bags down the hallway. Ugh."

"Did you get the ice cream?" we called as the opening credits rolled.

"Of course I got the ice cream," she said, toting a large tub of vanilla – the only flavor we had ever managed to agree on – and three spoons into the living room. She squished herself between Dorcas and I on the couch, and we huddled together in a mess of limbs and hair and arms to reach the ice cream and simply sat together watching a movie during the summer.

We were about a quarter of the way through when there was a faint tapping coming from the hallway.

I froze. Siobhan paused the movie, grinning, and Dorcas ran down the hall. She returned a second later with a large Great Horned Owl, its feathers looking like deadpan eyebrows above its serious yellow eyes. I would've laughed at its humanistic decorum if not for the threat of a heart attack pushing against my chest.

Siobhan quickly took the parchment and ripped open the letter.

"Shiv!" I exclaimed, tossing a throw pillow at her head. "Give it!"

"It's short anyway," she said.

I snatched it from her outstretched hand and tilted it so that Dorcas knew she was allowed to read, too. It _was _short, but I felt a little lighter in my heart at its brevity:

_Are you asking me on a date, Lily Evans?  
J_

Of course he'd be incredulous. Or maybe it was wariness. Whatever it was, I giggled a little at the hasty reply, the messy slant of his usually semi-tidy scrawl, and grabbed my wand to summon some parchment and the quill before scratching a response. It was so much easier to do this now that I wasn't letting myself think about it.

_Against my better judgment and everything that is right in the world: I, Lily Evans, am asking you, James Potter, on a date.  
L_

I could tell Siobhan and Dorcas were thrown off by my sudden airiness about this all, but I couldn't have explained it to them if I tried. So I sat back, threw my arm over Siobhan's shoulders and managing to reach one of Dorcas', and watched the rest of our movie.

Dorcas was dozing a little when the ending credits started rolling, and Siobhan wriggled her way out from between our bodies to use the toilet while I switched another movie in. _Young Frankenstein _was next, one of our favorites, and I tickled the little part of Dorcas' exposed stomach to wake her as Siobhan traipsed back down the hall, dancing a little as she came to sit on the couch.

"What's got you so happy?" we asked each other at the same time.

Dorcas laughed, rubbing at her eyes, and kicked her socked feet up onto the coffee table. We followed suit, our stomachs bloated from finishing the whole container of ice cream. I leaned my head on Siobhan's shoulder and let myself feel relieved.

_Feel, don't think._

The horses were whinnying once again at Fran Blucher's name (or perhaps the thought of her face – blegh) when the telephone rang and all three of us screamed a little, jumping as the thunder on the movie rolled.

We broke into laughter at that, and Siobhan hopped off the couch, practically tripping over herself in giggles, before answering the phone.

"'lo?"

She paused, turning around slowly to face me with a devious look in her dark eyes that immediately set me on edge.

"Yes, she's here. May I inquire as to what you would like from her?"

I glanced at Dorcas. She shrugged.

"That'll come at a hefty cost – what? No, I don't want to talk to him. Tell him to go help himself. This is between you and me… No, I can't do that… I know. But I think you're getting something better in this deal, anyway."

"I don't think I want to know," I mumbled to Dorcas, turning the volume on the television up.

Siobhan held the receiver out to me. "Miss Evans, someone would like to speak to you."

I got to my feet and took the receiver, raising my eyebrows at her as she took my seat on the couch. _Who is it? _I mouthed to her, but she simply grinned and turned to the television. Dorcas turned, too, as Siobhan started whispering, and I rolled my eyes at the traitors.

"Hello?"

There was a pause, then: "I had to ring and make sure I wasn't hallucinating."

I found a barstool just in time. There was some kind of strange release in my voice, something I hoped he wouldn't catch, as I breathed, "James."

"Hi," he said, chuckling softly. "So. A date?"

I unconsciously twisted the twirled cord around my wrist as I stared at the wall of pictures on Siobhan's refrigerator. _Feel, don't think. _"Yeah. A date."

"Sirius told me what you said. I meant what _I _said; I don't want you to feel rushed into anything. Don't feel like you have to do this."

"No," I said, looking at the floor now. I was a horrible, horrible person to have kept him doubting himself. "No, I – I want to. I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't want to."

I could hear the smile in his voice. "Okay, then."

That was being said a lot recently. A lot of affirmations going around tonight. "Okay."

"Do you want to meet tomorrow at noon? At the Leaky? Then we can go wherever you'd like."

"Yeah, that sounds good," I said, trying so hard not to let the tiny piece of me that was too damn excited for its own good to take over. Perhaps I could let the anxious part out to even things out. "Um. Yeah."

I think he could tell I needed to get off the phone before I broke down, so he said, "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Right," I said. This was the awkward goodbye time. There was something I felt I needed to say, something on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't decipher what it was. So instead, I said, "Tomorrow, then. Have a good night, James."

"Goodnight, Lily."

The receiver hit the plastic of the telephone with a dull, unpleasant _click. _

I couldn't pay attention to the rest of the movies we played that night. _Goodnight, Lily. Goodnight, Lily. Goodnight, Lily, goodnight goodnight goodnight…_


	11. Ebullient

_A/N: I will get to all of your reviews soon, I promise! I wanted to get this posted before running off for class. Thank you all so much for your support - for both this (my baby!) and my random one-shots and several series, even though they're being neglected. I can only hope I'm doing as well as you all deserve. Thanks to my beta Zayz, who does not want my firstborn but a wonderful date chapter. Next up is Twelve: Tallulah, and I'm working on it as fast as I can! (James is being difficult... as always. Bugger.)_

_As always!  
Mina :D_

_(Ah! And, since I've had people ask: I use the Irish pronunciation of Siobhan's name, "Shi-VAWN," kinda like Shivonne, which is where her nickname "Shiv" comes from. She's described as olive-skinned and naturally dark-haired, but her parents are Euro-mutts and just liked the name, so... yes. Her father stubbornly insists that he is some percent Irish.)_

* * *

**ELEVEN: EBULLIENT**

* * *

"Remember the first week of fourth year, when you fell into the fountain and they called you Nessie for a week?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't look _that _bad."

"Siobhan, get out."

She slammed the door behind her. Dorcas pressed her thumbs into the tense muscles in my back. "She's jealous."

I raised my eyebrows at her reflection and gave her one of those _Are you kidding me? _looks. She laughed. Taking her hands from my back, she gathered two strands of hair from both my temples and pulled them back. I felt the gentle tugging as she started braiding them together.

"Maybe not jealous," she amended. I stuck my tongue out at her. "She's trying to be supportive, she just does it in her own way."

I leaned my hands on the bathroom counter and peered at myself in the mirror. "Do you have anything to hide these bags under my eyes?"

"Besides magic? Because that solves everything," she said, twisting a rubber band around the braid. "Unfortunately I can't do magic because the Ministry is an autocratic, pathetic excuse for – "

"Can we not do the whole Berating the Ministry thing today? I don't want to get into politics with you right now, Dork," Siobhan said through the door. "And Lily, use that illusion charm from _Witch Weekly. _Works wonders, 'specially when you've been up all night after pub crawling – "

Dorcas turned to whip open the bathroom door. "Do you have to sit out there – "

"Are you going to hog the only toilet and – "

I sighed, leaning over the sink to get a better look at my face. "I love you guys."

The dark circles and puffiness disappeared with a wave of my wand as they continued to fight over Ludo Bagman and whether or not he was holding all his intelligence in his stomach. I stood back, smoothing out the front of my plain white peasant blouse, a small row of embroidered flowers around the scoop neck and the bottom hem, the sleeves loose to my elbows. My jeans were plain, my white canvas Keds were plain, and my hair (plain) was free and wavy down my back, pulled away from my face by the two strands of hair Dorcas had braided together.

"I look boring," I told myself. My eyes shone anxiously in the muted bathroom light.

Siobhan and Dorcas stopped bickering. I looked down to see Siobhan's head peeking out from around the doorframe, unsmiling, lips pursed. "After all the work we did, I would hope you didn't think you looked _boring. _You look like you, which is impressive, really, considering the ghoul we found in your bed this morning."

Dorcas' grip on my arm tightened. "You are absolutely the worst – "

"_Guys_," I said. I pushed past Dorcas and made sure not to step on Siobhan as I walked into the kitchen, refilling my mug of tea. It wasn't as soothing as coffee, but considering I was going on a coffee date, it seemed redundant to make a pot before I went to drink some more.

And there it was._ A date. I have a date with James Potter._

But I was not thinking today. The minute my eyes had unglued themselves three hours ago, I had impressed it into my mind: _You are not to think today._ I had to repeat it every time my nerves got out of control and my doubt threatened to take over, causing my hands to shake and my mind to go blank for minutes at a time. _You are not to think today. You are not to think today._

It was a good thing. Really, it was: I would finally get to see what all the fuss was about with James and his legendary dating, and I could get it out of my system and wash my hands of this anxiety and stress that was making me crazy. Maybe I'd even have a good time, if my head didn't explode.

"Lily, cut it out."

_You are not to think today._

"I'm good, I'm okay," I said, taking a large gulp of tea. "I'm actually kind of excited, in that nervous, pee-my-pants kind of way. Which might not be a good thing, as we're going to be drinking coffee all afternoon."

Dorcas laughed, sitting on the couch and flipping open the _Prophet_. "You'll have a lovely time."

"Hopefully." I took a seat next to her and glanced at her watch. "One hour."

"One hour until your _doom_," Siobhan growled, her voice dramatically deep. She came out of the hallway, still dressed in her pajamas, with a magazine in her hands and a dangerously speculative look on her face. "I was thinking of changing color again; this blonde doesn't do anything for my skin tone. What do you think, ladies? A nice brown?"

"That is all you," I told Dorcas, escaping into the spare bedroom I had claimed as mine.

I straightened the comforter on the bed, threw my dirty clothes in the corner, and carefully ran a brush through my hair. I peeked through the curtains to check the sky and make sure it wasn't raining. I picked a piece of lint off my pants. I sat down. I stood back up.

"Lily! Stop it!"

Frustrated, I threw open the door. "I'm not _doing anything!_"

"I can hear you pacing," Dorcas called. "Come out here where we can keep an eye on you."

Like a petulant child, I slammed the door in response.

So I was nervous! It was a natural, common thing. I always got nervous before dates, especially in the early stages of relationships – this was not any different. Sure, the urge to pass out was stronger, and I wanted to crawl into my bed and sleep the rest of the day away, but I just needed to get that initial greeting out of the way so that I could slowly get myself used to his presence. That's all – _you are not to think today._

Siobhan opened the door and stuck her head in the room. "It's fifteen 'til. You wanna get there early or make a fashionably late entrance?"

"I don't know?" I squeaked.

She chuckled, shutting the door as she stepped into the room. I watched warily her as she sat on the bed, crossing her legs and cocking her head to the side as she watched me biting my nails. "You need me to come and make sure Potter behaves himself?"

"No."

"Should I wait around the corner with a portkey in case you need to get away?"

"No. No, I'll be okay. God, Shiv, it's _Potter._ I just can't believe…"

"That he's finally bagged you?" she asked, grinning. At my eye roll, she shook her head. "Okay, no, not 'bagged.' Sorry, bad word. Look. Dorcas is irritated with me because I'm not being 'encouraging,' but I can't deal with people in love when Mel just completely destroyed – "

"Whoa, _love_?"

She waved a dismissive hand. "Love, lust, whatever. I'm glad you're doing this, okay? That's what I wanted to say. I'm glad you've pulled your head out of your ass. It's taken us a while to get here, so you better not screw it up, yeah?"

"Thanks, Shiv," I mumbled, tugging at my shirt. "No pressure."

"None at all. And remember, no thinking. You feel like snogging his face off, you do it," she said, exiting with a wink.

I gave myself a minute of adjusting and obsessing before rejoining Dorcas in the hall. We were quiet as I sat down, the shower starting up in the bathroom and Siobhan's loud, off-key singing floating throughout the entire flat. I leaned my head against the back of the couch and tried to prepare myself for whatever was to come. This did not need to be such a big thing.

Dorcas folded the paper and looked to me with a soft smile. "You ready?"

"Sure," I said. I stood, checked her watch, pulled at my shirt a bit more, and rolled my shoulders. "Ready. I, uh, don't know when we'll be done, so I'll see you when it's over?"

"Don't sound so enthused, Lily," she said, laughing. She pulled me in for a hug. "You don't want to be late. And don't panic. And don't _think. _You'll be okay."

I sighed. Pulling my wand, I waited a moment to calm myself for twisting sharply, the clenching arms of Apparation dragging me from Siobhan's tiny apartment building to the bustling crowd of the Leaky Cauldron.

It took a second to readjust, and as I looked around, a heavier, Saturday lunch crowd sitting around talking with people in wizarding outfits and mugglewear alike, I found it hard to find a place to sit. I was certain that it'd be easier for him to find me than for me to look around for him – hello? red hair sticks out anywhere – and pushed my way to an empty seat next to a window.

A young man looked at me briefly as I sat, but I was so tightly strung and jittery that I could only throw him a quick smile and return my gaze to the clock above one of the mantelpieces, glancing at it every so often that it looked like I had a nervous tic. It was like a jumpy little ball of electricity buzzing around in my stomach, zapping my muscles and short-circuiting my brain. My previous anxieties were returning, those that I had began thinking just after our fight, when I had realized that I liked him as more than an enemy, more than a friend. What if he changed his mind? What if he didn't show up? What if, despite everything Sirius and Peter (or Remus) said, he didn't want… what if he didn't want me anymore?

"Are you quite alright?"

I jerked my head up. The young man that was sitting on the chair next to mine – dark-haired, dark-clothed, but with light, reserved eyes – was watching me now, amusement in his face.

"Yes, thank you. I'm waiting for a – a friend. He should be here soon," I said, glancing at the clock. Certainly he would –

A hand curled around my elbow. "Alright, Evans?"

I watched the floor, the electricity in my stomach slowly fizzing out, the edge in my shoulders evaporating. It was like the warmth from his hand on my elbow spread, calming my heart and my nerves and the thoughts that had been crashing around in my head. There was a stillness now, nice and calm. _You are not to think today. _And so I didn't.

I didn't want him to see my blush yet, so I turned my head a little, just enough to hide him from my peripheral, and said, "I was beginning to think you stood me up."

"It's five past. I've been here for ten minutes," James said into my ear, low and humored. "As if I would stand you up for our first date."

The words thrilled me to my toes. Standing, I pulled my elbow from his hand, unable to handle his skin on mine so soon for so long, and, taking a deep breath, turned around.

His hand went straight to his hair. I would've laughed or rolled my eyes or said something derogatory except the gesture was oddly, discomfortingly endearing now, something I could recognize as a nervous tic more so than a flaw of vanity. He was smiling that soft smile and his eyes were bright, but I _felt_ more than saw his nervousness, perhaps stronger than mine.

I wouldn't have thought it was possible, but James Potter was nervous.

He was also very attractive, and I don't know which moved my hand to brush against his forearm: his disquiet, or the way I liked how he was dressed casually, in jeans and a t-shirt, the way I had to look up to see his face, how he smelled the same as he had the night he hugged me, even in the overwhelming smell of the Leaky Cauldron. I laughed as the muscles of his arm twitched underneath my fingertips and the silent sigh I could feel against my forehead as, too soon, I pulled away and stuffed my hands in my pockets.

I cleared my throat. "I was thinking about it."

"You wouldn't have," he said, calm as spring, and I gave myself a moment to marvel at his composure, even when I knew he was just as jittery as I was. "You're too intrigued. All those years of saying no really add up, Evans."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," I said, trying to adopt his relaxed tone and glancing around at the crowd again. With relief, I noticed that the chair that the dark-haired guy had been sitting in was empty now, but the crowd was pressing in closer, for some reason, everybody filtering either through the door to Diagon Alley or to the door to muggle London. "Can we, uh, go?"

"Yeah, of course."

He didn't grab me again, but I followed close behind as he cleared a path to the door. At one point I was tempted to grab his belt loop just to stay upright, but ultimately kept my hands shoved safely in my pockets, ducking my head and following his feet until my gaze met a step and the cooler summer air erased the odor of bodies and alcohol.

"And you know as well as I do that neither of us slept last night," he said as soon as we were safely on the sidewalk.

His eyes roamed my face, much as I had when we had first ran into each other a week before, and I could see him mark the tiredness in my eyes. Secretly I hoped that he could see my nervousness and my deeply buried excitement there, too. When he leaned back a little, giving me room to breathe, I smirked, falling back on a transparent version of our comforting banter.

"A little too antsy, Potter?"

He rolled his eyes and started walking. "Come on. I haven't eaten anything this morning and you owe me a coffee."

My feet didn't want to cooperate. Against the rules, my mind started whirring. I was on a date with James Potter. I could turn back now if I wanted to, disappear into the Leaky Cauldron and Apparate right back home. His back was turned – turning away from me again – but this time, he knew I would follow.

Last time, I knew now, he was certain that I wouldn't, had been proven right, had given me the time I needed to figure out why. And now, though he was nervous, he was confident and had faith enough that I had found the answers I had been looking for. Such blind faith, when he'd had no sign that he wouldn't crash and burn. I was a little in awe this time as I watched him walk away.

He was several paces away when he turned around. "Coming?"

_I've been waiting for six years, Lily. I'll be alright. Take your time._

I smiled timidly and ran those few steps to match his stride.


	12. Tallulah

_A/N: I COME BEARING CHAPTER TWELVE! And profuse apologies. I meant to have this up a few days ago, but… wow, let me just say: never, ever, ever will I ever write a First Date chapter ever again. I really hope – REALLY hope – this was worth your wait and my stress and the long days that I just wanted to bang my head against the wall. (FanFic is SRS BSNS.) I've been working on other stuff while editing this, but I finally made myself sit down and get to work. (Basically because Realmer scares me.) Oh, man, guys. I do hope you enjoy. Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews and alerts and favorites, it means a ton that you're sticking with me. Please let me know how it goes!_

_Tremendous, never-ending thanks goes to my amazing, astounding, wonderful, life saving (etc. into infinity) beta Zayz. Go heap worship and praise upon her, because seriously, she kept me from giving up. Mega hearts to you, chica!_

* * *

**TWELVE: TALLULAH**

* * *

It was strange, walking by his side down the London sidewalk. Strange in that dream-like, surreal kind of way. Up until this summer, I had never seen him outside of Hogwarts or a busy wizarding area. Now that we were in London, surrounded by muggles and people who had no idea who we were, who had no knowledge of our pasts or our rows or what exactly we were to one another, the anonymity was nice. Outside of Hogwarts, I could just be Lily and he could just be James, and we could just be two normal teenagers who may or may not have had huge, repressed attractions to one another.

"I never thanked you for the flower," I said as we walked.

He ducked his head with a chuckle. "I had some help with that, actually. I talked about it with Remus a lot, and then Shiv came up with the idea and Sirius wouldn't let me sleep until I sent it, so… team effort, that was."

I wanted to feel embarrassed that so many people were in on this silly little relationship, but I had Dorcas and Siobhan carrying me around, too, so I couldn't blame him if he needed some support. "She's a dirty little sneak, playing on both sides."

He grinned. "It worked, didn't it?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" I said, and then immediately turned my blush away from his gaze. I sincerely hoped that I wouldn't be doing that all day.

"Yeah. I still think I'm hallucinating. That, or you've completely lost it, but either way, I'm not going to jinx it."

"Stuff it," I laughed, and motioned for him to follow me across the street.

"You look nice, by the way," he said as we made it across the intersection. He tugged on the loose cotton of my sleeve. "It's good to see you in something normal."

"Just nice?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Any other time, Evans, you would've threatened me with castration should I have dared call you beautiful."

"Yes, well. You dare do so today."

I couldn't believe the words came out of my mouth, but it was far too late to drag them back inside the little cage in my mind that they came out of. Perhaps my _feel, don't think _policy was not the most wise idea. I didn't have the courage to watch his reaction, so I focused on the crowd around us, the steadily declining overcast clouds, the inflection of his voice and his solid walk beside me.

"Shall I try again, then? You look beautiful today, Lily," he said.

There was a smirk on his face when I looked up. "Thank you. You look nice as well."

"Just nice?"

"Now you're trying your luck," I said.

He laughed, asking me a few questions about my parents, my sister; we talked about Sirius and his Mum and Dad for a while, and I told him about Vernon, about Dorcas and Siobhan, and he told me about Remus. Throughout our calm small-talk, when he'd pause to make gestures with his hands or struggle for a description of his house elves or let my laughter subside so he could speak again, I found myself enjoying his company and the way he felt so at ease, the way it affected me, too. And I found myself stepping just a little closer to him, my hands swinging at my sides now, every once and a while brushing against the back of his.

Grade-school behavior, sure, but it was like relearning this whole dating thing all over again.

"So," he said as we crossed another street, as if he didn't notice me nearly hyperventilating right next to him. "Where are you dragging me?"

"It's right over here," I managed, crossing my arms over my chest.

The small coffee shop I was leading him to was tightly sandwiched between two larger buildings, one an insurance agency and the other a photography office. My mother and I had stumbled upon it in my first summer home from Hogwarts, when Petunia had stopped talking to me and Mum wanted to spend some mother-daughter time away from the house. It was called Tallulah's and was very homey inside.

James hesitated as we reached the door. "This looks, ah… it reminds me of Puddifoot's."

"You can't be serious."

"I'm quite serious. Bad experiences." He shuddered. "If only you knew."

I sighed.. "Of all the dates that you've been on at Puddifoot's –"

"Evans, really. There were all of," he paused. "Four. Five, if you count Marcella, but she was batty. And Puddifoot's isn't the manliest place, if you haven't noticed. I don't do well with pink and frilly."

"Is it only your masculinity that you're worried about?" I asked, tapping my foot on the pavement. "Because this, if you haven't noticed, is Tallulah's. And I'm Lily Evans. And we're on a _date_."

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to use leverage?"

"Is it working?"

_Standoff!_ I thought as he crossed his arms over his chest. The silence lasted all of seven seconds before James' willpower melted and he rolled his eyes, crossing the few feet between us and pulling the door open.

"You're lucky," he grumbled, placing his hand on the small of my back as I stepped in before him.

I didn't give myself time to think about the heat of his hand through my shirt. It was nice, it was natural, and it wouldn't be normal to lean back into it, so I kept moving forward, claiming a small table in the corner.

After we ordered our drinks – a strong cappuccino for me, a more-chocolate-than-coffee mocha for him – and settled in, I was really able to let this sink in. I was on a date. With James. Who was sitting across from me, sipping at his drink, watching me watch him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was _different_.

_James _was different. I'd grown so accustomed to Potter the Gryffindor, the Captain, the Marauder. At Hogwarts, he was arrogant and devil-may-care, sauntering and proud, the first person you'd expect to start a row just for the hell of it, flaunting his wand and word play shamelessly, with no doubt or regret afterwards. That James was the one I'd been loathe to date; that James was the one that irritated and goaded me to drastic, dramatic measures, that made me want to tear my hair out, jump off the Astronomy tower, curse him to oblivion and beyond.

This James? Good _lord._

He had opened the door for me. He had put his hand on the small of my back when I led us to our table. He had held out my chair. His smile was charming and sweet and not at all mischievous, not at all smug. This James… not expected. I hadn't prepared myself for this side of him, and it was off-putting, the way he calmly sipped at his coffee and tactfully hid the aversion on his face. It took me a few minutes to readjust my defenses and reorder my thoughts.

Because this was different in a completely new way: hating James Potter? Easy.

Liking him past the point of any bit of logic I could ever manage to scrounge up? Dangerous.

_Very dangerous._

_****__- QS -_

Thankfully my inherent yet slowly dwindling barriers were still in place, allowing me to sit across the table from him and quietly get myself together. It was just so damn bizarre, having him here in a place where I spent so much time as a child. It was another one of those merging things, I supposed: slowly bringing him into my life one little piece at a time. So instead of looking around at things I already knew, I looked up and stared at him, at the little nuances of his face, trying to relearn his expressions.

I watched his smile as his eyes moved across the few people sitting around, sipping at their drinks; his amusement at the old, flowery wallpaper, the countless cat clocks lining one full wall, the gypsy curtains over the windows; his frown as he smelled the odd scent of Siobhan's favorite brand of ginger incense mixed with the overwhelming smell of coffee; his gentleness as he caught my gaze, held it, took another pained sip of his weak mocha.

"Is it good?" I asked, hiding my smirk behind my cup.

Even though I knew he didn't like coffee when I asked him here, I didn't want him to know that I'd ever paid him that much attention. Because, regardless of your level of affection a person, after six years of enduring their forced company, you really get to _know _him, whether or not you intended it to turn out that way.

(I hadn't. At all.)

He choked down a swallow, trying to get the mouthful down his throat. "Y-yeah. Wonderful."

"Really," I said. I leaned back in my chair and took a bite of my scone, watching him carefully, deciding to have a little bit of fun with him. "It looks like you're enjoying it, Potter."

"Are you enjoying this torture? Because it's not fun," he said. He put his cup down and glared, althoughhis smile rendered the gesture fairly useless. "In fact, since we're being honest, I'm going to have to say that it tastes like old, moldy Polyjuice that's been sitting under Sirius' bed, in his Sock Box, for years. _Years, _Evans. That's…"

He trailed off with a shiver. I laughed.

"His Sock Box?" My eyebrows were raised, and I could feel the telltale dimples in my cheeks that whispered my reluctant amusement – at both his expression and, well, the situation in general. James Potter, genuinely entertaining me? I still couldn't get over it.

"You don't want to know, Evans. I don't even want to talk about it." He reached for my scone,almost like it was a surrender. "Give me a bite of that, would you? I need to get this taste out of my mouth."

"No!" I exclaimed, nearly vaulting across the table to snatch it out of his hands before it got to his waiting raised a slow eyebrow at me as I sat back down, attempting to compose myself in my embarrassment but narrowing my eyes at him all the same.

"You can't have any," I said feebly.

"Are we eleven years old again?" he asked, perfectly serious, but his eyes, again, gave him away. They had a curious habit of doing so, and, because I had never really noticed before, I wondered if he was able to do that intentionally.

_Probably. How else would he get his way so much?_

I rolled my eyes at both him and that thought and let the tight muscles of my mouth relax a little bit. "Do you want to suffocate yourself? Have your throat swell up and cut off all your air? There are_ peaches_ in this. _Peach_ scone," I reminded him, pointing to it. "You were standing right there when I ordered it. Or were you staring at me too long to notice?"

He looked at me for a moment, a bit too still for my liking, a little blank. I fidgeted in my chair. Maybe that was a bit too knowing, too forward, for his liking. Maybe he had only mentioned in passing that he was allergic to peaches, had never expected me to take too much stock in those letters he sent me. Maybe I was supposed to keep to polite, detached conversations and not little banter-fests that would probably end up, inevitably, in a row.

_Maybe, maybe, maybe…_

Frustrated, I wrapped my hands around my cappuccino and forced my eyes to bore into the swirled brown and white patterns staring back at me from the foam. _Stupid Lily._

"You remembered that?" he finally asked.

I looked up at the surprise in his voice. "Of course I remembered."

Then, to counteract the absolute girlish softness of that silly little sentence: "Know thy enemy, Potter. My plans to kill you need to have backups, you know. A through H are sitting in a locked box in my trunk, if we're being honest."

"Really," he said. Mischief shone the most delightful light in his eyes and he leaned forward, his forearms resting against the tabletop and his hands folded, like mine, around his coffee. His eyes flashed now with the tempting challenge. He could definitely do that on purpose.

"Well, if we're being honest, then do you care to tell me what those murder tactics consist of? It could be a fun game if you'd let it, Evans. Just think: you trying to kill me, me intercepting you. Cat and mouse. Assassin versus assassin. Whatever you want to call it."

"I can't do that," I said. I shook my head and felt my expression mold into my best poker face. (Siobhan always called my bluff; you be the judge.) He smirked – _dangerous, Lily; he is not handsome right now – _and tingles pricked at the very tips of my fingers and toes, traveling with pleasant heat through my body. I hoped that my voice was as smooth as his when I said, "You'll just have to keep on your toes. I'm a bit trickier than you think I am."

And then, out of nowhere, Siobhan's voice came floating right to me: _Flirting? With Potter? Me-ow, Lily._

"Ah, that you are," he agreed. He paused, his eyes still gleaming as he surveyed me carefully over his coffee cup. Then: "Hmm. If we're being honest…"

Debating over his next words, I presumed, he took my cappuccino out of my hands and tried to down some of it, as though I would think his sharing it would be impressive. I was going to warn him of just how much espresso I had asked the barrista to dump into my cup (honestly, I was – we were being very honest today, apparently), but I was a wicked, wicked person. If he thought his weak, heavily-chocolated mocha was bad…

His eyes grew wide as the large mouthful he had managed to swig registered with his taste buds. I watched with a satisfied grin as his eyes bugged and he had just enough composure to keep himself from throwing the cup across the room. "Jesus, Evans! How can you _drink _that?"

Half of the occupants of Tallulah's turned to stare at him. He gave an indulgent smile and a wave, for their bewildered sakes, before promptly turning to stare at me. "You are an odd woman, Lily Evans," he said, shaking his head. "How you can drink acidic _dirt _is far beyond me."

I grabbed my cup back and tried to remember where his lips had been so that I could steadfastly avoid that side of the rim. "Oh, go get a water, pansy," I said lightly, giving him a little kick underneath the table.

He got up from his seat with a huff. I couldn't help but watch him as he walked away. It was unavoidable – sad though it was to think.

_Insanity, my name is Lily._

But, really, I shouldn't have been so surprised at myself. I'd sunk to this pathetic level before, what felt like months ago now, when I had realized, reluctantly, that I _did _fancy him; and then again when I'd read his letters over and over, and again when I'd stared at that charm-preserved tulip for far longer than necessary…

And he wasn't an "unfortunate specimen of male," as Siobhan would say, not in the slightest. He kind of oozed that smarmy charm when he wanted to get his way, like he was doing to the poor cashier right now. I could imagine the way he would be looking at her through his glasses, his lips lifted, his eyebrows unevenly raised. He was built and tan and lean and his shoulders were unfairly nice and he kind of swaggered when he walked – which was irritating, but I guess when you're James Potter you get that right – and God, his forearms were just –

"Staring, Evans?"

Somehow, in the short time that I'd been staring at him and losing myself in my stupid, stupid thoughts, he was back, and he was now staring at _me_ as he took his seat. The receipt in his hand informed me that whatever manipulating he'd done to the cashier had been successfully achieved.

He was waiting for me to say something, though, so I felt the color rise in my cheeks as I said, "Not on your life, Potter."

"I've got some barmy witch after my life anyway," he said. Then, being the naturally fidgety human being he was, he proceeded in tossing a spare coin on the table. And, being the naturally alert human being that _I _was, I allowed myself to watch it spin, spin, spin on the gauzy tablecloth.

"So, we're being honest, yeah?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered, wary at this abrupt turn of tone.

Honest was a good thing, by all means. But I didn't know how honest he would want me to be; how honest I would let _myself _be.

Then again, this was James Potter… There seemed to be no rules where he was concerned, not now, not anymore, not when I had broken all of my previous ones when I'd asked him on a date; and whatever rules there actually were, whatever rules we were playing by right now, appeared to be coming about spontaneously as we continued with our avoidant, yet revealing, conversation. My rules had abandoned me; it looked like I was on my own. With James. On a date.

He drank some of his new vanilla milkshake for a few long seconds before sitting back in his chair. "Have you thought any more about what we spoke about? In Diagon Alley?"

Ah. I'd seen this coming, and for once, I was somewhat ready for it: the conversation we had left unfinished, the conversation that he was bringing up calmly, examining me calmly with his hands resting calmly on the table. The only things anxious about him were his eyes, and I made myself look at them with my own, not so calm, gaze.

That, at least, he deserved.

"What this means to me…" I said, stalling slightly.

He nodded, letting me make my faces and play with my thumbs in his infinite patience. "Yes. Remember, we're striving for honesty here, Evans."

I picked up his straw wrapper and chucked it at him in a pathetic attempt to lighten the heavy mood that was pressing me into my chair. "Sod off."

"No, okay, look," he said, holding his hands up. "I'll be quiet, I promise. Go on."

With a restless sigh, I sat back in my chair and fiddled with the coin on the table. How was I to put these difficult thoughts into words? To actually _tell him how I felt? _It was a novel idea, something I had feared doing from the very beginning, but we were here, and we were talking about it – finally – so I opened my mouth. "Well…like I said, I _do_ fancy you…"

Now it was Dorcas' voice, scolding, upbraiding me as I made myself think too much: _You fancy James, and now, when James might still fancy you, you shut down because you don't know what to do about it… Stop that. This is good._

It was bolstering, and with a small smile, I continued. "Well, more than I thought I would, anyway. More than I probably _should._ It's just that, last year, when we were… well, when we were friends, you were just…different, but in a good way. I got to see you for who you were, you know? You gave me time… let me think – or obsess – about all of this – "

I swallowed hard, my eyes averted from his unbearably kind face. "And then when we got in that fight – "

He shook his head. "I'm sorry for what I said – "

"Don't be," I interrupted, attempting a convincing smile. He looked like he was about to reach across the table to unwrap my tight fingers from my coffee cup, so I pulled them back and laid my hands in my lap. That was the last thing that would help at the moment.

"I needed to hear it," I said finally, my voice a little softer than it should've been. "Sometimes, like you, I've got a big head when it matters. I, ah, tend to think about things far too much than is healthy."

Another swallow. God, this was harder than I thought it would be. It wasn't exactly the conversation I wanted to have at this delicate first-date-after-years-of-hate phase; weren't things supposed to be awkward, yet light-hearted? A kind of "get to know you" day?

_Ah, right. We've had six years of "get to know you" days._

"But when we got in that fight, I heard a lot of stuff that maybe I didn't _want _to hear," I pushed forward, taking a small sip of coffee to satiate my ridiculously dry throat. "And you…you made me listen."

Silence.

"Lily."

My heart just about jumped into my throat when he reached across the table, with unanticipated tenderness, to cup my face in one of his hands. I think I shivered. No, I definitely shivered. Lily, not Evans; and somehow, though different, through strange, it was _right._

Unthinkingly, I held my breath and closed my eyes, relaxing into his palm, enjoying the sensation of his thumb running across the soft stretch of skinunderneath my eye. I opened both of them to watch the delight in his eyes as he surveyed me.

"I do apologize," he said softly, "Some of the things I said were harsh, I know, but if they got you here, with me, how can I regret them?"

I missed the heat of his hand on my face when he pulled away, but hid it with a smile. This desire to be touched by him was scary and new and _dangerous. _Something in me constricted at this wonderment, this floundering uncertainty, but something else in me calmed at the same time; he had an undeniable knack for making me contradict myself, but for once, I was going to let go, to give in, to feel and not think.

"It's nice being here," I commented after a moment of _not thinking_ under his gaze. "When you're not all… being a prat…oh, don't look at me like that, you know you deserve it." I threw him a minor glare for the gape he was sending my way, but my tone was gentle once I said, almost thinking aloud, "But it's still a bit… I mean, it's still a bit _odd, _you know?"

"You mean odd in that completely fantastic, unreal way? Because then yeah, I know what you mean," he said. He stole the forgotten coin from my fingers and flipped it between his palms as I contemplated his tone – so casual, yet so meaningful, so _full._

Because I wasn't thinking, and feeling was getting me nowhere, I could only makea little _tssk _sound between my teeth and steal the coin back. "I guess so," I said eventually. "Who would've thought I'd ever actually agree to go on a date with the infallible James Potter?"

His grin was wide and roguish. "Who would've thought _you _would actually ask _me_? Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

Glaring playfully, I tossed the coin at his forehead. He caught it deftly before it got anywhere near his face – of _course _he did –and handed it back to me with pursed lips.

"You can laugh at my lack of your legendary aim if you'd like, you know," I said, smirking. "Not everyone can be such an incredible Chaser like you."

"I don't want to laugh at you," he said, chuckling anyway. "Not now, anyway. I just – I really don't know why you'd bother throwing things at me when you know they won't find their mark."

I grimaced, but rested my cheek on my own palm, rather than snatching his back up as I wanted to. "Arrogant bastard," I muttered out of habit. I caught myself when he raised an eyebrow, and amended, "Sorry. What I meant to say, sir, was that you are an amazing, talented, handsome, _wonderful _arrogant bastard."

He laughed again. "Slightly better. Just remind me not to take you out anywhere that involves darts or something of the like next time we go out, yeah?"

I felt my face flame. "What?"

His expression was unreadable – curious – as he said, "Well, Evans, we're going to be dating now, aren't we?"

"Wait, who said anything about _dating_?" I asked, my tone more demanding, more surprised than I'd intended. His outstretched hand, and the coin lying on his palm, hovered above the table.

_Dating? How had I not… how had I not thought of that beforehand?_

If I was honest with myself, if I let myself think, I would admit to myself now that, yes,I'd been considering it in recent days (or the past few unusually pleasant hours). I had actually allowed myself to think _beyond _this date, to the weeks of long, summer days that stretched out further than these few little hours in Tallulah's.

Would it be so horrible to spend them relearning this relationship, redrawing lines that I thought I had set in stone, rethinking things I had never thought about before, like what it would be like to hold his hand or have it pressed against my face? What it would be like to let him hug me again, his heartbeat against my forehead, every line of him perfectly molded against mine?

After this date, after we separated in one or two or three hours, what then? We'd be "dating," right?

Would I then consider him my – dare I think it?** –** _boyfriend?_

That had taken me the longest time to get used to, in the days between the time he'd asked me what this all meant and now. James Potter, my boyfriend. I had imagined saying it to Mum and Dad, to Petunia, to Mr. and Mrs. Blanchett next door:

_Everyone, meet James Potter, my boyfriend._

I would have to force myself to get past all those years of hating him and to let myself be the girl that fancied him, that wanted to hold his hand and smile at him. The term could be well off, really, and it sounded so… trite, but if I was getting involved with him now, if I let this date evolve into several dates, then "dating," that's what he'd eventually be, right?

_Boyfriend._

The out-of-placecaution on his face (because when has James Potter ever been _cautious?_) made me feel more playful than I should've been with this whole situation. He was so used to my vehement refusals that he hadn't let himself think positively about the possibility of my acceptance – it was depressing, in this enormously humorous way, at least to me. At once, my playfulness turned to guilt, and I reached out, taking the silly pound coin we'd been fooling with from his hand.

"Next time we won't go out for coffee, I guess," I said, giving him what I hoped was an encouraging look, an _I'm sorry, _a little smile that read _yes._

"You bloody tease," he said, exhaling. "And you do know that I mean this. Relationship-wise. Like, we're talking dating. Being nice to one another. You might even have to talk to me every once and a while, Evans. Are you sure you can handle that?"

I laughed. "I hate you."

"Not anymore," he said, shaking his head and looking to the heavens, his eyes a million miles away after everything we'd just said and done, the millions of miles we had just covered in the short time we'd been sitting here.

For a moment, I thought he was going to say something deep, something poetic, something Dorcas would consider swoon-worthy, while still coming across with that sweet charm that I'd just discovered in him, but the hope was in vain: he only checked his watch and leaned over to glance outside.

"Hey, it's almost three; you want to get going before it starts raining? It looks like it's going to come down hard, and," he said, glancing brieflyat my white shirt, "I definitely wouldn't want you getting stuck out there."

"Oh, definitely not, Potter," I said, rolling my eyes with a chuckle. "Why would you ever want me to get stuck outside, in the rain, in my white shirt? That'd be _disastrous_."

"You act like I'm some sort of skeevy perv." He stood, pocketed the coin, took a last draw at his milkshake, and searched for a trash can. Unconsciously he snaked a hand through his hair.

_Why _did I find that attractive now?

Feeling a bit light-headed and inexplicably _happy_, I pointed to the exit with a suppressed grin, where a small receptacle sat next to an umbrella stand and a coat rack. "Perhaps I've confused you with Sirius, then, because I've always known you to be a skeevy perv," I said as we weaved through tables and chairs and customers and shopping bags together.

"Only on Tuesday's," he explained to me. "There is just something about Tuesday that turns me on. It's like…"

I couldn't focus on what he was saying anymore, because just as we made it to the front door, it swung open, revealing a small brunette with an impressive number of parcels in one hand and an as yet unnecessary umbrella in the other. I watched through the glass as she struggled with closing the umbrella, one foot holding the door open, and as she got it closed with a relieved sigh, she pivoted, nearly running us over.

My face fell when I saw who it was. Heather Toumey: previous fifth year Slytherin that had sent tough-as-nails Siobhan to the Hospital Wing.

_There goes our anonymity_, I thought with a silent groan.

"Potter! Evans!" Heather exclaimed, staring between my pained face and James' exasperated, irritated expression. I guess she didn't notice – or perhaps I was just too adept at reading him; when did _that _happen? – because she planted herself right in front of us, her perfectly smooth, tan forehead wrinkling in the middle.

"What are you…" she trailed off.

I knew. There were so many things that could follow that beginning: _What are you two doing together? What are you thinking? What did you do to her? _Essentially, it didn't matter what she started to say because any way she chose to say it would turn out the same.

There were so many other places that I should be, so many other people I should be with; the possibilities – all the other things that should have been but, because I was here, with James, in the middle of London, weren't – were endless and stretched out in front of my eyes, doubting me and this choice, _this _moment that I had already been second-guessing since the moment I'd left Siobhan's flat.

So before I could drown in the _what ifs_ and the _whys_, before I could really contemplate the bloody irony of standing in a doorway and the choice that was before me, before I could turn and run far, far away, I jumped.

His hand was warm when I slipped mine into his.

Heather's jaw snapped shut along with my breath. I stared at my hand – our hands; my pale fingers cupped around his long, summer-tanned ones – for a prolonged moment as if it weren't a part of my body but a part of an experiment, something intangible or just plain bizarre that you couldn't quite manage to take your eyes off of. Time smacked me on the back of the head at the same moment an unfamiliar tickling of heat gripped the edges of my heart, and I slowly looked up to meet his gaze.

His answering smile was brilliant and so very worth it.

"Well, there you have it," he said to Heather, grinning.

Before she could form a response, he tugged on my hand – my _hand! –_ and led me into the muggy, warm air, the gray clouds darkening above us. We stood on the sidewalk for a moment while James reoriented himself, finally deciding on a direction and tugging me into a lazy stride, swinging our hands between us.

It was several minutes before I could speak. "This is strange," I said, my eyes on the sidewalk.

I felt stupid for being so worked up over this after everything we'd just talked about. We were only holding hands, but if I let myself really look at it, it was such an affectionate gesture, like him putting his hand on my face; such a large step to have taken from our familiar principle of never a touch, never a kind word, never a smile. As if my hatred had never existed, I had reached out to him and he had taken my hand. Easy. I just had to get myself used to it.

_We're dating now, after all..._

As always, he picked up on my mood – or maybe just the tension in my hand – and, God help me, laced his fingers through mine. The urge to combust, the very same that tempted me when he cheated and came back to hug me at the Leaky Cauldron, flooded my brain. The warmth of his hand was the only thing keeping me from pulling away. That, and, well… it was nice.

"You know she's going to go spouting off at the mouth to everyone she knows, don't you? Everyone's going to know. _Everyone._" I squeezed his hand in my panic. "And they'll think I've lost my mind. They'll think I've absolutely lost my mind. I mean, it's _Heather_, and she's graduated, but she still knows people – "

"Evans – "

"And oh my God, she's going to tell Alice, and I haven't spoken to her since she left for Australia, and all those – "

James stopped walking. "Do you honestly care that much? Because people are going to talk about this," he said, dropping my hand to motion between us before crossing them over his chest, "Whether you like it or not."

It was hard to find an answer with him staring at me like that, but it came eventually. "No… Not really."

"Then let it go, yeah?"

I nodded. He grabbed my hand this time, and we kept walking, him gently pulling me along. He was right. Of course he was right. I was on a date and that meant I was supposed to be having a good time.

_Let it go. Feel, don't think. Dating now._

"You're making far too big a deal of this, Lily," he said, smirking.

"There is no way you will ever stop being a prat, is there?" I snapped, glaring up at him.

His laugh lessened my annoyance, but only a little. "Nope. Besides: this?" he said, lifting our hands between us, "Completely okay with me. No complaints. You're very good at this hand-holding thing."

"I'm glad I meet your approval," I growled.

He squeezed my hand with a smile.

We walked another block, the foot traffic around us dwindling, each of us silent, before James spoke. "Well, that was an experience. Something for the books. _Lily Evans Does Not Kill James Potter on First Date. 'It was remarkable,' says one eyewitness. 'Amazing chemistry. Simply astounding.'_"

"Our first date," I murmured, avoiding his face.

"It wasn't so terrible, was it?" he goaded. "It only took six years and, oh, countless invitations. I stopped keeping track in fourth year; too many pieces of parchment under my bed. I would cry myself to sleep every night before Remus told me to stop counting, you know. 'Waste of time, Prongs,' he would say. 'O, ye of little faith!' I would say. 'I shall have the lily maiden yet!' And here we are."

"I don't know what I see in you," I chuckled. "You are absolutely absurd."

"Ah, yet here you stand. Or walk. Semantics."

I nodded, a pleasant blush in my cheeks. "Here I walk."

"Beside me," he grinned, pulling our hands up to place a kiss on the back of my hand. His lips were gone far too quickly – God, how I wished he hadn't done that; those lips that launched a thousand new, dangerous thoughts in this crazy brain of mine – wiped clean by the humid air, and I gripped his hand tighter, scared to bring him any closer than the half a foot already separating us.

"Where I always knew we'd –"

He froze.

It wasn't a surprised stillness, like when you see two of your supposed rival classmates together outside of school or when you catch your soon-to-be brother-in-law and sister snogging in her bedroom, but a stillness caused by a spell to the back. The instant he stopped walking, the very second his hand went rigid in mine and I looked up to see the confusion, the controlled alarm in his eyes, I stopped breathing. He teetered into me and I caught him around the waist with one arm, pressing my shoulder against his chest to keep him upright.

"James?" I whispered. "James, oh, no."

Whipping my head around, I struggled to pull my wand from the waistband of my jeans. There weren't many people around, and luckily there weren't any businesses or crowded flat buildings in this part of town, and if I could just get my blasted wand out of my pants in time to unfreeze James, hopefully we wouldn't be outnumbered with whatever was going on, so if this came down to a duel… God, this was not the time. Why _now?_

"Potter… _Evans._"

I gripped James' inert arm, careful to keep him standing, as I slowly turned to a horribly lit alleyway about five paces behind us. I couldn't see him there, but did I ever know his voice.

"What the hell are you _doing_, Severus?"


	13. Wonderwall

_A/N: Uh... hi, guys! I blame this delay on school and my faulty, stupid internet and, erm, this chapter. And myself. I'm sorry for the hugehugehuge wait, and I wish I could come back with something GOOD, because this chapter is just ugh (thirteen must really be an unlucky number), but I hope it at least makes up something. I might be a little slow with pretty much everything for the next week or so, as we've got AP exams and senior meetings and just general school mess, but after that, I'll be on top of things. I hope. I hope for a lot of things. Like my own personal James Potter. Mmm._

_Thank you all so much for being patient and sticking with me and just being wonderful, brilliant readers. If I haven't responded to your review - whether it be on QS or on one of my one-shots (I tried to get them all!) - just know that I appreciate all of your feedback and compliments and favorites! Love you all!_

_As always,  
Mina :)_

* * *

**THIRTEEN: WONDERWALL**

* * *

Years ago, this decision would've been easy, no doubt or hesitation. It would've been a quick, visceral, instinctual reaction of anger, a twinge of annoyance, my mouth automatically spewing acerbic, acidic abuse without pause; quick and to-the-point, never lingering too long, never giving over to uncertainty or veiled feelings. Years ago, I knew myself, this dynamic, this scene.

Years later, I was floundering.

Standing there watching Snape skulk from the shadows brought everything back: what we'd been, what we'd had, what we'd lost. He hadn't been the perfect friend, but then again, neither had I. When things started getting tough, when he started changing, all I saw were the differences in him and how they were warping him into someone I didn't like to be around. The fact that he'd been my first friend in this new world, the one that taught me what was out there, what I would have to face, what I was capable of… It had all crashed down on me with that one word: _mudblood._

Because it wasn't about James or Dumbledore or the Dark Lord or house rivalry; it wasn't about muggles or wizards or any kind of blood in between; it was about this, right here. It was about the way Snape had so easily tossed me aside as if my heritage was more important than our friendship. And that's what it all boiled down to, for him. The closer he got to Voldemort, the closer he got to his other friends, the closer they got to his mind – the farther he got from me.

I tried to tell myself that I didn't care, at first; that his apologies were real; that he was a Slytherin, and that fate – that blind prejudice, that terrible allegiance to a horrible, twisted excuse for a man – was what he _chose_. But having known him, his dry humor and his sarcasm, his talent, and his begrudging, rare generosity, it was his betrayal – there was not a better word, and it rang so true when I thought about it – that hurt me more than I had ever let on. So what did I do? Hid my pain and my anger with biting remarks and cold shoulders. Much like him, I pushed away.

And then came James, a reluctant friend.

Not only was it ridiculously comforting to have him between us like this, it was too ironic to ignore. As Snape had decided last year that he'd had enough with his silly mudblood friend, I'd found myself drifting towards Potter. It had been an unconscious thing, as if the tie that had connected me to Snape had been severed, and I was floating out in space, waiting for another orbit to pick me up.

Which, also, was ridiculous. I could be self-sufficient. I had Dorcas and Siobhan, and Remus, sometimes, when he wasn't off with the guys. But Severus' gravity had been too large, too significant, and when that string had snapped, I had reeled, had been sent spinning towards the next big planet. Big-headed Potter, though probably filled more with helium than anything of notable substance, had been the next closest thing.

And this was where we were now. A crossroads. I was with James, a… date. Something more than a friend. Someone I wanted to get to know. Someone unexpectedly solid; someone who, in six years, had never given up on me. And then there was Snape, someone I had thought was a friend, who, at the first chance, took the path right out. But he'd see it as a switching of sides, as if I had been loyal to him all along and that this was the ultimate stab in the back.

I bristled at the thought, gripping James' frozen arm and glaring across the feet of sidewalk between Snape and us. "What the hell are you _doing, _Severus?"

"I'd ask you the same thing," he said, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. I could see the handle of his wand quite clearly under the hem. "But you seem to have fallen for his charm after all. Almighty Potter finally catching – "

"Is that what this is about?" I interrupted. "You throwing a fit because James isn't such of a monster as you made him out to be?"

That, as it turned out, was the wrong thing to say. It wasn't necessarily the whole truth, either, as, on more than one occasion, I used to note every single one of James' flaws, had laid them out for everyone to see. I knew that now; I knew it then, but now, as Snape's face colored, as he took a few hasty, anger-driven steps towards us, I glared and gripped my wand tighter. He had never been as even-tempered as he liked to seem…

I opened my mouth before he could do something stupid. "Your face will be on the pavement as soon as I Ennervate him, so you better hurry up and say whatever it is that you froze him to say to me."

We stood like that, James' heavy body leaning uselessly against mine, my arm still around his waist. It was another showdown, but this time, my opponent wasn't going to give in. If anything, he'd push harder, roping that string around my small, unassuming planet to do me some damage. But I'd changed since I was last in Snape's orbit, the difference of another gravity an altogether new affect. I was different now, too, and Snape and I would never see the same way again.

"I saw you in that cafe," he began, gritting his teeth. "I was running an errand, and I saw you. I didn't think it was you, at first, but then he reached… really, Evans?"

The disbelief on my face almost tempted me to explain why, what I was doing, who James really was, but I didn't owe Snape that. I didn't owe him anything at all. So I snapped, "Yes. Is that all you wanted to know?"

He clenched his fists. "After all this time, you're with him. I just can't get it through my _thick skull_, I guess. So how did he persuade you?"

"This is none of your business," I said, hoping the acid on my tongue was enough to burn straight through that thick skull of his. "At all. Are you done? Can I resume my date?"

"Your date – " he gave a derisive laugh and shook his head, glowering at me.

I watched as Snape's gaze traveled down James' back to my hand gripping his waist, my other on his arm. I could practically feel the anger rolling off of his still frame. Keeping him balanced against my shoulder and hoping it looked a fraction of normal to any wandering passersby, I smoothed my hand down his arm, sure that he was driving himself mad with thoughts of murder. It was definitely a good idea to keep him petrified – the fight that probably would have ensued would've sent us all to the Wizengamot.

"You gave up any right of knowing anything about me years ago," I said, ignoring the flicker of hurt in Snape's black eyes. He deserved that. "And you know what? It turned out that James was a better friend then you were all along. He never turned his back on me."

_At least not in the way that you did… _

"How's it feel to be a hypocrite?" he spat. "Because that's all I see here. A _filthy_ hypocrite – "

"Oh, like a _filthy mudblood? _You haven't changed your tune – "

"Don't start, Evans – "

Angry tears started prickling against the back of my eyes and I grasped James' arm tighter, knowing that he'd help if I would let him. My throat tightened and kept my voice from growing any louder. "I _never_ turned my back on you! Not once! I used to defend you to my friends, Severus. I defended our friendship. I defended _you._ And you remember when you started in with all that blasted pureblood shit? You've absolutely no place to talk about being a hypocrite."

He narrowed his eyes. "Yes, and all those years you spent telling me how much you hated him and loathed him? What happened to that? Here you are, protecting him and acting as if nothing had ever happened, as if you'd never fought with him before."

"Things change. You should know that," I said, coming down from my irritation. There was just a dull pain now, an ache from the ghost of his presence, something I'd cast away a long time ago. Things were different now. Things had changed.

Standing with James, watching Severus stand back – when, at one point this would have been the easiest decision to make, no doubt or hesitation – I was sure that this new state was a better place to be.

"I think you should go," I said, softer this time.

And without a word, without another look, he turned and walked away. Just like that. No faltering, no wavering, no indecision. I knew then that he wouldn't be coming back – in any sense of the word. I'd exchanged one relationship for another, but looking up at James, I couldn't feel any regret or any anger at his blatant jealousy or whatever that was. This goodbye was unexpectedly easier than the one I'd had to bear at King's Cross; perhaps because I had already said goodbye to him a long time ago.

I let out a shaky breath, jumping a little as a crack of thunder punched the sky. In the time that we had left Tallulah's and Snape showed up, the clouds had rolled in fast. I could feel the rain in the air already, sinking against the delicate violet clouds.

"And I think you need to be reasonable," I whispered to James, pushing against him so that he was precariously balanced on his own feet. "He just wanted to talk. I'm going to revive you, and if you don't go after him, we'll be okay. Got me?"

Of course he couldn't respond, but I found the answer in his eyes. Like everything else today, I had discovered that if I'd had the guts to really look him in the eye in the past, I would've found anything I wanted to know about him, any of his feelings or thoughts at any given time. And right now, he was angry.

"Maybe I should let you cool off, then," I said, poking him between the ribs with my wand.

His eyes turned pleading.

I laughed quietly, and after a cautioned "Behave," I whispered, "_Ennervate_."

He fell into my arms. I was better prepared for it this time, the way his hands splayed across my back and the way his gradual warmth surrounded me, his knees and his hips and his chest aligning with mine in all the ways that brought a blush to my cheeks. Being this close was… I hadn't realized how much I missed it until now, how much easier it was to be close to him when I wasn't thinking about it so damn much. We didn't move for a few long moments, I guess getting acclimated to one another, enjoying these new sensations, this new proximity. It was a feat that I wasn't panicking. Perhaps it was the way it felt right, the way Siobhan had teased me when I told her about the last time, the way Dorcas just gave me that _look_ that told me I was doomed, done for, completely lost in whatever it is this was.

_So be it, then_.

"He's such a bastard," he finally grumbled into my hair.

I leaned into him with my face against his shoulder. "I know. Thanks for not… going after him. Though he probably deserves it."

His chuckle shook my whole frame. "This is a better alternative."

"Yeah," I said, linking my hands together around his waist. And then, because I could feel myself getting anxious with his scent and his chest and his hands, I kept talking. "I just… he used to mean a lot to me, and then he started getting sketchy, like how he'd hang out with those goons, Mulciber and Avery, and, well, I don't know."

"And he left you."

I frowned and pulled away from him a little, leaning against the circle of his arms around my waist, so I could see his face. "What?"

"I won't pretend to like the bloody arse, but for some reason he was your friend," James said, shrugging. "It sucks to have people turn their back on you like that."

I didn't think we were talking about Snape anymore. His eyes were guarded. "Yeah," I said slowly. "It does."

For a second – a long, conflicting, impossibly excruciating second – I thought he was going to lean down to kiss me. We were standing in the middle of a vacant sidewalk, our arms around one another, just staring. To any passersby, it might've looked like a tender moment; to anyone who didn't know us, it might've looked like we'd been together for an inordinate amount of time, speaking to one another through our eyes. And it surprised me how much I wanted it, how I wouldn't have turned my face away at the last second, how I wouldn't have socked him in the nose, kicked him in the groin, cursed him to hell.

But, looking up at him, the urge flashed across his face quicker than I could question it. He was close. He was very close. Dangerously close. If I stood on my tip-toes, tugged him forward a few inches…

"We should get you home," he said, clearing his throat. "To Shiv's. I'll walk you."

And, all too soon, he pulled away.

"Okay," I managed to say. The disappointment I felt that he hadn't leaned that extra bit forward disgusted me, to be honest, but for the first time ever – ever, _ever_, I swear – I just wanted to pull his face down to mine and snog him senseless in the middle of the sidewalk.

Doomed? It was shameless, really.

So I took his hand instead, leading him down the block. The thunder rolled ahead and our pace quickened, neither of us talking, crossing intersections quickly and looking anxiously at the darkening sky every few minutes. I wondered if he was thinking about what just happened. He'd been about to kiss me – I hadn't been imagining it. It had been written all over his face, in his smile, that smug, shy, complicated little smile.

"You know I'm going to have to launch a counterattack, don't you?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, pulling him out of the way as a heavyset woman with an umbrella and a toddler rushed past us. "What?"

"On Snape," he said pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Full counterattack. I'm talking a raid on his house, some dungbombs, someone screaming like a little girl…"

"Potter."

"What?"

"How old are you?"

He looked offended. "Okay, you know what, this is going to be an issue, I can already tell. If we're going to be dating – "

"You are not making demands already!"

" – if you want to date me, you're going to have to be supportive," he finished, untangling his fingers from mine and instead slinging his arm around my shoulders. "Okay?"

Hesitantly, I leaned into his arm, crossing mine over my chest. "Fine. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you go prank Sev- Snape. You know he's… involved with the Dark Lord somehow, and I don't – just don't, alright? Let's stop talking about Snape."

He nodded. His grave visage suddenly turned curious, then mischievous, and I groaned silently as he turned us down Levy Street, soft drops of rain finally starting to fall. "Hey, Evans… there was one question you didn't answer for me."

"Was it inappropriate or lewd?" I asked, automatically trying to think back to retrieve whatever question I had passed on.

"There you go with this unfounded lewd accusation." His laugh made me smile. "Confusing me with Sirius again. Is there something you need to tell me? A tryst with my best mate behind my back? I thought better – "

"I'm not interested in _Sirius_," I said, smacking his stomach. "Ask me the question, then, but I'm not guaranteeing an answer."

"I thought we were being honest today," he said as we finally reached Siobhan's flat building.

I ignored the faint hesitance in his voice by pulling my wand, hiding it as best I could, and unlocked the main door. He followed me inside, quiet, looking around at the old laminate floor and the smoke-yellowed walls and the varying faces of passing doors. I almost laughed as his eyes widened at door 1E, covered top-to-bottom with what looked like thousands of stamps, some falling off, some looking like they were glued to the surface. Siobhan had told me about that guy when I first moved in, summed him up with one word: _insane._

James only raised an eyebrow, though; his mouth quirked with humor. "Can we knock? I have an idea."

I could only imagine.

Though I wanted to be firm, my "no" came out on a chuckle. I pulled his arm towards the stairwell, explaining the broken lift, before saying, "Let's not torture anyone else today."

"Please?" Despite his begging, pleading gaze, he followed me up the staircase anyway. "Evans, come on. Live a little. Take out your rage from Snape with a harmless bout of fun. Don't you want to meet Mr. Stamp Guy? How'd he get away with that, anyway?"

"The landlord's pretty lenient," I said, marveling at his ability to run his mouth. Our footsteps echoed along with our voices in the stairwell. "And no, I do not want to meet the Stamp Guy. Shiv's neighbors are hardly normal – I don't think I need to meet them all."

He laughed. I opened the door for the fourth floor hall and he gently pushed me through first, shaking his head and muttering something about chivalry. Siobhan's music was already pumping, the light on the ceiling vibrating with the force of the quiet beats through the walls, and I wondered how Dorcas had faired with her all day, or if she was even still alive. I hoped Siobhan hadn't lit anymore incense.

I turned toward him once we had reached 4C and smiled up at him. "Thanks for this."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Not so bad?"

"No. It was quite a good date, all things considered."

"Really," he said, taking a step towards me. My heart grew suspicious as his eyes darkened. "It was the stimulating conversation, wasn't it?"

I took a step back and threw him a humored smirk. "Perhaps."

"Or was it the hand holding?" He reached down and took one of my hands in his, tilting his head to look down at me as he stepped forward again. His thumb brushed against the back of my hand. I think I was a few seconds from hyperventilating. Another Chafed Witch Paraplegic song started up, the door vibrating underneath my one free hand, thumping along with my quickening pulse.

"Definitely not a bad thing," I whispered.

The corners of his mouth twitched. Devilish though it was, _God_ was it amazing on his face. He leaned down just a little, his chest almost pressing against mine, and I felt it again, that urge, that instinctive pull towards him. His voice was quiet in the silence of the hall: "Or was it this?"

_Here it is_, I thought, finally reaching, reaching out, tugging, bringing him closer. We stepped back until my shoulder blades hit the door and his face, soft but bold in the dim hallway light, shifted so unbearably close to mine. He smiled; his leg brushed against mine, his hand grazed my waist. _This is far too fast_, I thought, watching with uncertain eyes as he took that one last step that would bring us to this, _this, here it is_.

A gentle breath of air swept my forehead when I shut my eyes, and instinctively I leaned in, a heartbeat in my hand and visions of his face behind my eyes, of his back as he turned away, of his hand, outstretched, waiting for mine; the silence of his confessions, the loud guilt that finally pushed me in the right direction, finally, finally. _I'm here, Lily_, he'd said, and now, now it was this, this reaching, this tugging, his smile and my relief, my surrender, my thoughts echoing the whisper of his words in my head. _I've always been right here_.

_Here._

And when I opened my eyes, his face, earnest and true, completely _there_, brought me ever closer. For a long minute – a long, conflicting, impossibly excruciating minute – we waited, watched. I wondered: did I want this?

I'd wondered, at the beginning of this all, this impossibly confusing summer, if I wanted this. I had wondered if I could do it, if he would wait, if it would be worth it. I had made myself look at him, at myself, at this, at everything that had once made us who we were and what we were together, and I'd had to twist it all up, had to imagine some alternate universe where I didn't hate him and he didn't annoy me and we could just _be. _And all I had to go by was him. Him and his faith. _This._

Did I want this?

I watched his eyes as he stared at me, that one long minute eroding my doubts, tightening my fingers around his wrist. I closed my eyes again, the better to feel, not think, and felt him there, solid and hovering in front of me. _This. _His heart _th-th-thumped _against my hand; his breath hitched, smooth and vanilla against my face. I inhaled.

He paused.

"James?" I murmured, the word trembling against the barest contact possible between our lips. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. _Th-th-thump_, said my heart, sang my pulse in my ears. _Th-th-thu – _

"Slow, Lily," he whispered.

_Th-thump. _

"Slow," I exhaled, the word released as his fingers took their rightful place on my cheek and his lips – finally, _finally_ – reached for mine.

_Here. Here it is._


	14. Besame

_A/N: Hello one and all! It's heeeerrreeeeee! Huzzah! I actually... quite like this chapter. So I hope you all do too. _

_Endless thanks for your endless patience, support, and kind words. We're over 250 reviews and at a mind-boggling amount of views with only thirteen chapters so far; I don't know how common/uncommon this is, but it's well and far beyond what I ever thought I'd_ _have. I can't express how appreciative I am that you guys are sticking with me and continuting to come back and read and review, even as I make you guys suffer through cliffhangers and long waits for updates. If I could, I'd send you all a personal James Potter to take your breath away, but unfortunately, well, I'm sure you know why that's impossible – besides me keeping him for myself. Hopefully this is enough. Now, I'm going to go and start on another of my late chapters before I get weepy and sentimental. And_ _besides, you probably want to get reading anyway. ("THE KISS!" I hear you shout as you keep reading this boring, rambling author's note that I'm now prolonging just to be irritating. "You bloody Writer Woman! GO AWAY!")_

_Leaving now before I am mauled,  
As always,  
Mina :)_

* * *

**FOURTEEN: BESAME**

* * *

When studying Healing, general muggle topics are taught as well as up-to-date wizarding techniques. It's important to know anatomy and physiology, to know how the body functions normally in order to be able to study what effects different types of magic may have. A Healer or a Mediwizard has to be able to think quickly, accessing knowledge of both muggle and wizarding practices at the same time in order to make fast, accurate decisions, oftentimes with little room to second-guess the reaction of the human body to a countercurse or a potion. They have to guess, to react, to have faith. They have to _know._

_Petrificus totalus, _for example, hits all the muscles at once, freezing them into a stone-like state and rendering the victim of the spell immobile. _Rictusempra, _another spell affecting the muscles, practically vibrates them in place, tickling the victim and causing them to laugh. _Locomotor mortis? _Locks together the legs, snapping the knees together like attracting magnets. _Muffliato? _Affects nearby victims' eardrums, almost as if stuffing cotton into the ear canal to block any incoming sound waves.

Kissing James Potter was like getting hit with all four at once.

Everything went quiet as his eyes – brown and green and the most beautiful shade of gold, dark with some kind of emotion in the dim light of the hall – stared into mine, not but an inch away, and his thumb smoothed across my flushed cheekbone. I could feel his heart thrum rapidly against my palm and I felt my own, beat for beat, measure for measure, thumping against my ribcage. _Here it is._ He hovered hesitantly above my face, wondering, I knew, if this was okay.

To be honest, I wasn't sure myself.

I liked him. It was obvious now, painfully, terribly obvious. I liked him. Quite a lot. And though I'd had trouble coming to terms with that earlier this summer, I knew it now. It was like stating that my hair was red, that there was a freckle on my left earlobe, and that I was an obsessive analyzer; that James had a little dimple when he smiled, that there was a nearly invisible scar on his chin, and that his nose was long and sloping. These things just _were_.

Somehow, my affection for James Potter had become one of those unquestionable things. And – somehow – I was okay with that.

So I welcomed him with bright eyes as he leaned down to kiss me, his fingers feather light on my face, gripping my waist to pull me closer. It was calm. There were no fireworks or bursts of angelic choir music. His lips brushed against mine for a brief second, then pressed harder as he tilted his head just that miniscule angle, one small adjustment that seemed exactly right. I had to lean back against the apartment door as his lips molded themselves around mine, unexpectedly soft and warm.

_James Potter is kissing me._

Of course, this was all a basic human interaction – no spells, no charms, no curses. It was a kiss, plain and simple. A kiss against an apartment door, a kiss in the muted light of a hallway, a kiss with hesitant hearts and reaching grasps. A kiss that tasted like vanilla and espresso and rain and new chances. A kiss that fizzled my apprehensions and melted my bones, but tightened my grip around his wrist and made me all too aware of his heartbeat underneath my palm and his sliding fingers, hot through the thin cotton of my shirt, drifting towards my hip, his other hand steady on my face, holding me to the earth. It was a kiss that took all but ten seconds – plain and simple, chaste and calm.

My poor little neurons weren't up to the task.

Now, neurons – those millions of nerve cells throughout the body – receive and send signals in an almost immeasurable amount of time. Seconds are long, yawning days to the firing of a neuron, and they pass messages seemingly instantaneously to the brain just as a person comes in contact with stimuli. And there were plenty of stimuli to focus on in those short few seconds. The tips of my fingers on his skin, his hand against my face, his knee bumping into my leg, my chest leaning against his, our lips brushing together lightly: it was all far, far too much, far too fast – sensory overload once again – and yet…

And yet.

Ten seconds was all it took – ten thousand, ten million, ten billion neuron signals – for me to figure it all out and lose my mind all at the same time. _James Potter is kissing me. I'm kissing James Potter. James and I are kissing in a hallway. _

_Lily Evans, you have finally gone barmy._

But… finally. I had wondered if I could do it, if he would wait, if it would be worth it. Would it be? Was it? He'd waited for me, hadn't he? And we were here, just like he'd always said we'd be. Here, right here, with soft lips and gentle hands like secret confessions in our own veiled, broken-down cathedral. It was like a worshipping kind of sin, right and wrong at the same time, the perfect kind of heaven, the most deceitful kind of hell.

And yet.

I pulled back an infinitesimal distance, dragging in a small, shaky breath and keeping my face close to his, my lips only just grazing the corner of his mouth, and opened my eyes. Behind his glasses, his were still closed; his hands stayed where they were, frozen and immobile against me.

I squeezed his wrist. _Open your eyes, _I willed silently. _Look at me so I can see myself with you. _

My silent request succeeded, or perhaps we were that in tune now – how odd – because he blinked. The fire in his eyes was subdued and tame now, gentled by the little space between us. His heart slowed, taking mine with it, and I raised myself to my toes to rest my forehead against his. Did I want this? His breath and his eyes and his hair, his hands on my waist, his charm, his infuriating jabs, his sarcasm, his ego?

He paused, as if reading my mind, and hesitantly pressed his lips to mine a second time. It was just as soft, just as sweet, and I could still taste the vanilla on his breath before I felt his lips turn up, pulling back with a smile and a question in his eyes.

_Yes. _

_Do I want this? Yes, yes, yes._

"Well that answers several questions," he chuckled, dropping his hands to his sides with noticeable reluctance. The ghost of his laugh tickled my palm – _Rictumsempra _– as I took my hands back. I watched him as he nodded behind me to the door I was still leaning my dead weight against. "They'll probably be wondering if you had a good time. Which is apparent to me, so: you're welcome."

Marveling at his composure, I warned my knees to solidify before standing up straight and reaching behind me to grasp the doorknob. "You sound pretty confident about that, Potter."

"Like I said," he reminded me, leaning his humored face down to mine. "You just answered several questions, Evans. Have a nice night."

And, with a stolen kiss and a devilish grin, he loped off down the hallway and disappeared into the stairwell.

I stared at the empty space in front of me.

_Good Lord. _

Had that really just happened? When I woke up this morning, I had never anticipated this. It had only been the first date, and, despite Siobhan's dating rules – which were convoluted and not at all logical – kissing was a no-no. Dorcas had said it was "giving things up too early," whereas Siobhan would argue that it was "giving him a test drive." But it wasn't too early, was it? Six years. It was six years in the making, six years of tests, fights, and trials; six years of waiting for something I hadn't realized that I'd ever have need of.

At least that's what I told myself as I tried to breathe. _Feel, don't think. Don't think. Do not think._

_Oh, my God, I just kissed James Potter._

I was a bit numb as I turned towards the door, my poor neurons tired out and chugging along, and was wholly unprepared to face Siobhan and Dorcas quite yet. I steeled myself for the imminent barrage, but when I opened the door and peeked my head inside, there was no sign of life save for the Wireless playing its heart out to an empty flat.

"Hello?" I called, kicking off my shoes as I stepped into the tiny foyer. "Dorcas? Shiv? Anybody home_?_"

Suspicious and wary, I shut the door quietly, spelled the Wireless off, and started tugging out the braid in my hair as I peered into the empty living room and kitchen, then made my way down the hall to check the bathroom and bedrooms. They should've been – _Siobhan _should've been waiting to ambush me the second I had opened the door. They hadn't said they'd be going anywhere, had they? I thought they'd be lying in wait the second I would walk in, both curious and devious with questions abound.

I twisted my wand up into my hair, securing it in a loose bun and reveling in the cool air against my neck. The quiet was nice, actually. Just me and the tumultuous thoughts and feelings raging through my system, the feeling of his lips on mine, his hands, the brush of his jeans against my shins... I sunk into the couch and closed my eyes, playing it over and over again, until, what felt like a few short minutes later, the door swung open.

"You are ridiculous. That's not what she meant! I'm sure there – "

"She said I had big feet, Dorcas. Size six is not _big_! I mean, proportionally, maybe it's rather big for a bird my size, but she didn't have to _say_ it."

A key ring hit the countertop and the door slammed shut. "You didn't have to throw the shoe at her."

"Bugger off. You're not being supportive right now and I don't like it. Where's Lily? She has big feet. _Lily!_"

I sunk farther into the couch, suddenly wanting to drift further into unconsciousness at the mere thought of Siobhan chucking a shoe at some poor woman's head. But I threw up a lazy arm and called out, "Over here."

"Hey, you know that little shoe shop – oh, my God, how'd your _date_ go?" Siobhan exclaimed, her voice growing closer. I heard her boots quickly cross the room and felt her tiny frame shift the couch cushions. Her perpetually cold hands found their way to my bare thigh and I hissed, smacking at her blindly. "Stop flailing about and tell us how it went! I can't bloody believe I almost forgot. Merlin, Dorcas, d'you see you made me do? 'Let's go get shoes!' _Great_ idea. I forgot about Lily's _date_ – "

Dorcas sat down on my other side. I could hear the eye-roll in her voice. "You were the one who burst into my room while I was working on – "

"Are you still talking?" Siobhan said, breezing over Dorcas and putting her hands on my face, turning me towards her. "You. Spill."

"It was nice," I said, unsure of why I felt so hesitant in sharing this with them. They were my best friends – certainly they'd understand how impossibly _impossible _this all was, how confusing and conflicting. It wasn't a jesting kind of fling; I'd found that out when I kissed him. To him, this was _real_.

To me?

I shrugged, allowing myself to give them a smile. "We had fun."

"Lily," Siobhan deadpanned. "Come _on._"

"Shiv, we talked about this," Dorcas said. "Let her talk."

Scowling, Siobhan sat back, her mouth pressed into an irritated line.

"I don't know what you want me to say! It was nice. He wasn't an arse and he held the door open for me and bought my coffee," I hedged, leaving out the parts where he completely charmed me. Which was practically the whole date. "We talked about that fight. We… we, ah, talked about the possibility of maybe dating?"

Dorcas grinned. "That's excellent!"

"That means you are. There's no _possibly_. So_, _Lily dearest," Siobhan drawled, smirking. "You're dating James Potter now. How does it feel?"

"So far, it's really… nice," I finished lamely, shrugging again. I knew she wanted a detailed explanation of my feelings, a mapped out diagram of my heart, but there weren't words to describe how his gaze made me feel, how his fingers on my face and his lips on mine just made sense. It was calm. It was right.

"_Nice _doesn't _– _"

"Coming from Lily, and speaking of James, _nice _speaks volumes," Dorcas told Siobhan, trying but not succeeding in hiding the light in her eyes. She grabbed my hand and giggled, and I couldn't help but smile. "We ran into him on the way up."

I blushed. "You didn't."

Siobhan, of course, noticed this immediately. "He was in absolute _raptures_, you've no idea, Lil; jumping down the stairs and grinning like a fool. He was practically _skipping, _for Merlin's sake. You must've done something right."

"Thanks ever so much," I said, glowering and shoving her shoulder.

She smiled wickedly. "I knew you'd give in and snog him – "

"I did not," I growled, yanking a throw pillow from behind her and stuffing it into my face. "God, is that what he told you?"

A bigger, warmer hand pulled at the pillow. "He didn't have to," Dorcas said, a bit too humored to be sensitive. "It was written all over his face, and we knew as soon as we walked in the door. Why are you overreacting?"

"I'm not!"

Siobhan smacked my knee. "You are. You _are _overreacting, and I bet it's because it was everything you thought it would be – everything _I _thought it would be. And it was, wasn't it? Amazing and brilliant and absolutely perfect. Did you slip him some tongue?"

"_God, _Shiv – "

"Nope. You don't even have to say anything. It was the most amazing thing that's ever happened to you, to him, to all of us. Now you can finally stop moping around all sexually repressed like you've been for the past year and help me get my shag on. I have a date tonight."

I pulled the pillow from my face, glad for the distraction and the change of subject, and frowned. "Since when?"

Dorcas sighed as Siobhan jumped to her feet and started bouncing on the toes of her thick-soled boots, grinning in a way that disconcertingly reminded me of Sirius. She clapped her hands in front of her and trilled, "Since I met Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome at the records store today! Where, incidentally, I _also _might have a job!"

"What… what about Mel?" I said, raising a delicate eyebrow as she froze on a pirouette, her lips thinning into a line.

"What _about _Mel?"

_What about Mel? Is she serious? _I glanced at Dorcas, trying to convey my confusion to her, the absurdity of this all. Siobhan had gone crazier than normal over Mel last year, had been about to marry him, and she was already moving on? Though I was happy for her for attempting to get over him – Mel was, quite possibly, the biggest arse in the Isles – but this didn't seem healthy: after all, it'd only been a few days.

"I mean, Shiv," I said, trying to phrase this delicately. "You were going to get married to him. That's just _over _for you? Just like that?"

"What do you want me to do, Lily? He cheated on me with Nella. After he asked me to be his _wife._ I can't just – I don't…" she trailed off, shaking her head. She crossed her arms over her chest and exhaled. "Besides, this guy is much better. You wait."

And with a nod, as if assuring herself more than Dorcas and I, she escaped into the bathroom. The shower started up soon after, but I knew she was sitting on the edge of the tub, her head in her hands. It was something she often did when she was stressed – a rare occurrence, certainly, but every time something bothered her to the point of her actually getting _emotional _about it, she would try to hide it away, refusing any kind of comfort or sympathy. For all her energy and warmth, Siobhan was an independent creature at heart, adapted to dealing with her problems by herself and in her own way. She explained it away as the Slytherin in her, but we knew she just didn't want anybody to see her as weak.

I cleared my throat and stayed where I sat, knowing that even if I wanted to help her, she'd shove me away.

"She really is happy for you," Dorcas said quietly as the door opened, watching Siobhan flit between the bathroom door and her bedroom, the soft murmur of her mirror hiding her half-hearted sniffles. Dorcas closed her eyes and rubbed a hand over her temple. "She couldn't stop talking about it all day. I think she was trying to focus on you so that she wouldn't have to think about herself."

I could only stare towards the hall, watching Siobhan pace back and forth, emerging with some new piece of outfit or hairstyle every time she switched rooms. There she was, hurting on the inside, while I was going around on dates and being happy in this new stage of my life. What was wrong with me?

"I kissed him," I whispered, looking down at my hands. I couldn't help the sudden _guilt _that weighed down my stomach. "It was more than what I thought it would be – so, so much more."

Luckily I'd said it so softly that only Dorcas could catch it, and by the grip she had on my knee, I knew she'd heard. I didn't want to look at her; I could only look at the few glances I could catch of Siobhan's face, closed-off and deceptively strong. I was so insensitive to have ignored how she was doing with Mel, how she was feeling – all I'd been focused on was myself and James, and I had been making her think about her own relationship more than she needed to.

"Don't dwell on that," Dorcas said, pulling my gaze to her. "You deserve this. Siobhan will find her way."

I could never lie to those blue eyes. "I just – I feel bad. I really fancy James – he's a nice bloke, and he's handsome and kind-hearted, polite, generous, all those things we used to talk about when we'd think of the ideal man, and Shiv gets stuck with an arse like Mel," I said, shaking my head. "It's just not right."

"She's okay for now, though. Look."

When I looked up again, Siobhan was standing in the middle of the room completely transformed. She was wearing a nice black dress and new black pumps, her now caramel-colored hair pulled up into an impressive up-do. She had taken her piercings out, something she hadn't done in quite a while – especially not for a _date – _and even her make-up was subdued. Her smile was oddly tentative as she let us study her, and she did a little twirl, her dress catching the air.

"You look lovely," I said, standing up to get a better look, shocked that this stunning woman was indeed _my _worn and torn, ripped-jeans-and-flannel Siobhan. When she rolled her eyes and gave me a rude gesture, no doubt watching all this pass across my face, I knew she hadn't been blackmailed into that outfit.

It was a step forward. It seemed like we were all taking a lot of those lately.

"He won't know what hit him," Dorcas said. "Lucky, lucky guy."

"What's his name?" I asked.

Siobhan grinned. "Mikhail. Heis _gorgeous_."

"If he's making you dress up like this," I said, giving her a slow once-over as I walked to the kitchen to grab a butterbeer, "He'd better be."

"Toss me one," she said, holding open her hands to catch the butterbeer I threw to her. She cracked open the top, took a large swig, and burped loudly. "And he's better looking than Potter, at least. Isn't he, Dork?"

Dorcas only sighed. She grabbed the remote and clicked the television on.

I shook my head, feeling bold by my new status – dating James Potter, _dating James bloody Potter_ – and still a bit light-hearted from our kiss, and gave her an impish smirk. "Doubtful."

Siobhan paused for a moment, staring at me as if I'd just chugged an entire vat of Firewhiskey and offered to strip around London in my knickers, and then burst into a snorting round of laughter. I chuckled as she doubled over, shaking her head and muttering incoherent babble about James and hair and asses and Mikhail through her gasps of air, and I took a seat next to Dorcas on the couch as Siobhan tried to get control of herself.

"Oh, Lily," she sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "You just… I have to go. I need to prove to myself that Mikhail really is more smoking than James, else I'd be after your boyfriend, Lil, and I don't think you'd win."

She shut the door on our laughter, and I took another sip of butterbeer as Dorcas tuned into the news for a few minutes. I'd always liked the taste of butterbeer – a bit like butterscotch, a bit like over-sweetened syrup – but my taste buds were yearning for something less sickeningly sweet, something like vanilla, a faint trace of coffee, carried on a sigh and a soft caress of gentle lips…

– _**QS –**_

I'd gotten my wish: there was a weak hint of coffee in the air when I opened my eyes the next morning. I was disoriented for an alarmed second before I remembered that I was in Siobhan's flat and not my own bedroom, that Dorcas was staying in the room next to mine, that the smell of breakfast in this household wasn't exactly the safest thing to wake up to –

"Dorcas!" I shouted, tripping my way out of bed and stumbling into the hall in my pajamas. Besides Potions and Arithmancy and being mean to people who rightly deserved it, there was one thing Dorcas couldn't do above all others: cook.

But she wasn't in the kitchen or the living room as I stepped out of the hall, swiping at my sleepy eyes. Instead, I found Siobhan standing behind the stove in a black shirt and a pair of obscenely short-shorts in the silver and emerald colors of the traitorous Slytherin. The Wireless was playing a popular, upbeat song and Siobhan was humming along, shaking her hips and flipping pancakes to a beat, her tousled caramel hair spilling down her shoulders.

"Your date must've gone well," I grumbled, yanking open the fridge in a hopeless search for something to drink that wasn't alcohol.

But miracles do happen – there was food in the refrigerator and bread in the breadbasket. Fresh bread. Bread that wasn't green. Or black. Or infested. I could only stare. It was like gold; Midas himself had come to Levy Street and touched flat 4C, gifting me with sustenance. Siobhan was saying something about Mikhail being infinitely more attractive than James, but I could only gape at the full refrigerator. Living with Shiv for the past day or so had really been a detriment on my diet.

I shook my head in wonder. "When did we get food? Did you go to the grocery?"

She laughed, twirling her spatula around in an arc. The pancakes sizzled on the stovetop, beautiful and golden, perfectly round, tempting my nose in the most stomach-rumbling way. "This morning. Dork and I went out, actually; we're planning on keeping you here longer, so I figured food was the right way to go."

"Mmm. Yeah," I mumbled, salivating, grabbing a plate and a fork and stabbing a few pancakes off her ready-to-eat stack. I nearly stumbled onto the barstool and picked up my fork, ready to _devour. _"Hey, wait. Stay? I'd have to call my parents – "

"Maybe later. Sit. Eat. And have some coffee, you look dead," she commanded. She pointed her spatula at a styrofoam cup sitting next to the telephone and her keys before turning to the fridge, pulling out a package of breakfast sausages and a carton of eggs.

God, breakfast? She must've had a _very _good date.

I balanced the stool on two legs to reach for the coffee cup, getting some of my hair in my syrupy pancakes and a smudge of it on my pajama shirt. "Thanks," I murmured, taking a deep whiff of my coffee. "Pass the cream."

"It's already made just the way you like it," she said, cracking an egg one-handed over the pan. It briefly crossed my mind to ask her why she was doing this all the muggle way before I remembered how her half-blooded grandmother would make her breakfast over the summers, just like this. So I tried a taste of my coffee as she called, "Dorcas! You want eggs?"

"Yes, please! With cheese," Dorcas shouted from the bathroom. "And ham! Did we get ham?"

"No ham."

"I thought I asked you to grab the ham!"

Siobhan took a deep breath and rolled her neck. "We don't have any ham, Dorcas."

"Okay, okay. Thank you, Siobhan! I love you for being so generously wonderful," she called before the shower started up. We could hear her laughing to herself underneath the supposed protection of the showerhead.

I took a deeper sip, wrapping my hands around my cup and breathing it in while Siobhan shook her irritation out of her shoulders and continued flipping pancakes and eggs simultaneously. I reveled in the strong espresso, the smooth caramel and vanilla, the hint of cinnamon and the light tufts of whipped cream –

"Hey," I said, frowning. I licked some foam from my lips. "This is from Tallulah's…"

"Mmm."

"Did you go to Tallulah's this morning, too? I didn't know you knew how I got my coffee there – "

She looked over her shoulder at me with a naughty grin on her face. "You might've had an early morning visitor while you were sleeping. This visitor also might've brought you coffee and a gift for making his dreams come true. It might be sitting on the coffee table."

James had been by. While I was _sleeping. _He hadn't been in my room, had he? God, I would never live it down if he had. But… a gift?

My head whipped around so fast that my syrup-drenched strand of hair smacked me in the face and stuck to my cheek. Spluttering, I pulled it away and rushed into the living room, breakfast be damned. There, on the coffee table, was a spellbook-sized box, wrapped in a glittering violet paper. A note was stuck to the top. I reached for it with a nervous hand.

There was no signature Potter seal on the envelope, but I recognized the slanted scrawl of my name immediately. Inside, there were only a few words that, really, explained nothing at all:

'_Remember those questions you answered yesterday? This is one of them. I need you to start trusting me, Lily.  
- James'_

I picked up the box – it was deceivingly light – and ripped the paper off before lifting the lid and peering inside.

"You've got to be kidding me," I mumbled.

"No," Siobhan breathed. "No _way._"

"Oh, my," I heard Dorcas gasp from behind me. "Is _that _what he dropped off this morning? I knew he looked keyed up for something…"

I lifted the dress out of the box and turned to face them.

The dressing gown was a deep, deep burgundy – so dark it was almost black, but when the light hit it, it shimmered an elegant, wine-red – and felt like a fabric smoother than silk, so soft as it shifted beneath my fingers. The sleeves were long and looked like they'd billow around my knuckles; the collar was low and elegantly embroidered with a gold thread, matching the trim near the bottom hem near my feet. It looked a bit too narrow around the waist, but maybe if I sucked it in…

_No. _I was _not _wearing this. This must've cost a fortune. I shook my head, already telling myself that I'd have to send this back to him, that I would not let him spend so much money on me already – or _ever – _that I had never agreed to go with him to that stupid gala anyway. It was obvious that that was what this was all about, and I couldn't go. Wouldn't go. Especially not in that.

Even though it was beautiful.

And perfect.

"He sent you a _gown,_" Siobhan said, her face bordering on awe. "I am _impressed._"

Dorcas, still clad in a towel with her wet hair dripping on the wood floor, reached out and ran a hand down the intricately draped bodice. "Wow."

"Not happening," I said, trying desperately to ignore the way the satin slid against the light. "I am not going. A gala? Seriously, guys? So I can rub elbows with people like Bagman and the Slug? No. I can just barely tolerate him in school as it is. 'Oh, ho, Miss Evans! You're looking quite _striking _tonight! Care to take a stroll around the room with me while I ogle down your dress?' No, no, no."

"Professor Slughorn has never stared at your chest, Lily. He's a _professor_," Dorcas scoffed. Despite her dislike for Slughorn, her respect for all of our professors held strong throughout the most obvious of grievances. She cut me off just as I opened my mouth. "And that time in fifth year doesn't count. He was checking your potion."

Biting her thumbnail, Siobhan shook her head and laughed. Her squinted eyes were glued to the dress, though, as I continued to hold it up to my body. "He was completely checking out your boobs. I saw him. Almost knocked himself out when he leaned over your cauldron, though. Bit too anxious to get to the goods, if you know what I mean."

Dorcas looked at her. "You are crude."

She shrugged. "Perhaps. But I am also smart enough to know that Lily's an absolute idiot if she sends that back."

"Guys," I whined. "I can't. This would make it… official."

"Like it isn't already?" Siobhan countered. "You've already snogged his face off. I don't know what else you could do to say, 'Hey, Potter I bloody fancy you.'"

"I did not _snog his face off_," I hissed, trying to fold the stupid gown back into its original shape. I pressed it into the box, not sparing it another longing look, before turning back to them. "It's not about proving to Potter that I fancy him, because I'm pretty sure we went over that. It's just… I'd have to meet his parents – "

"You've already met Elaine," Dorcas pointed out.

" – and, well, _people _will be there! People like Heather Toumey – "

Siobhan's face darkened. "Slytherin, remember? She'll be at the Black's."

"I said people _like _Heather Toumey! People like Heather who like to gossip and spread business that isn't theirs to spread! People who will see us _together_ – "

"You're being a stubborn bint," Siobhan interrupted, chuckling. She grabbed my coffee off the table and handed it to me before pulling the dress back out of the box. "Drink your coffee and pull your knickers out of your ass. You're going to that gala. We all are. And you're going to wear this gown, look completely spectacular, and make Potter want you like he's never wanted you before. Jesus. Aren't you supposed to be _trusting _and _honest _and everything now?"

I looked to Dorcas for help, but she simply shrugged, nodding at Siobhan. "She's right."

"Ugh, you guys!" I huffed, throwing myself into the armchair. I crossed my legs and pulled a piece of syrupy hair off of my forehead, glaring as Siobhan twirled around the room, the burgandy fabric of the dress shimmering in the sunlight.

I _was_ being stubborn for no reason. We were dating. We had kissed. He had asked me to trust him. _And _he had brought me coffee this morning.

"Fine," I grumbled, acquiescing only because there was caffeine trickling through my system and vanilla on my tongue. "But you all owe me. _Big._"

_This better be good, Potter._


	15. Hematoma

_A/N: I KNOW, I KNOW: FINALLY, right? I'm rushing to type up this A/N, so excuse any babbling or mispellings or misplaced anything. I have a lot to talk about, ironically, but not a lot of time. __I've been sneaking a tiny bit of it to you in small doses throughout each chapter. It's like sneaking your kid vegetables in food he or she likes until you can get him/her to eat his/her veggies plain. See? I hope that makes sense. If not, oh well, I have to move on. Needless to say: we're MOVING, people. (I'm also sorry for the distinct lack of James in this chapter and all the ANGST/DRAMA going on. And for all the parenthesis I use. It's ridiculous, I know, and I need to go to rehab for them, but nooo, noo, no!)_

_SEQUEL QUESTIONS! I'm plotting this story with the sequel in mind, but, since I suck at plotting things on paper, it IS all going down in my mind. I have no notes, no outlines, no nothing. Maybe that's why I'm so scatterbrained, but somehow, it works. I know what's going on most of the time, but most importantly, I know where this thing is heading. ANYWAY. (Sorry for capsing so much? I hate being in such a rushhh, guys, argh!) QUESTION: for the Quiet Summer sequel, would you like the rating to stay as T, or would you like me to change it to M? Plot will essentially stay the same, but with M, of course, you'll just be able to read... more, I guess? More in-depth, maybe. I don't know. I like writing T, but M would be new territory, and with everything that'll be going down in the sequel, perhaps that's for the best. (Violence! Death! Sex! Foul language!) However, my dear readers, I leave it in your hands! Let me know!_

_(Let me remind you, before the panicked reviews and PMs come pouring in: this is NOT the end of Quiet Summer. We've got a long way to go until this summer is over.)_

_A tremendous thanks to my beta Zays, who is always there, and is the best beta EVER. I'd also want to thank all of my reviewers for keeping me motivated and making me laugh. Truly, your words mean so much to me, so thank you for taking the time to write me a few every now and again. _

_OKAY. If I think of anything else (which I probably will), I'll come back through and edit or put something up on my author page. As it is, I think my mother's going to kill me if I don't get off the computer._

_You guys rock my socks off. Don't forget that._

_AS ALWAYS,  
Mina._

* * *

**FIFTEEN: HEMATOMA**

* * *

The sun was quick to disappear that day. Bruised clouds seized the sky, bringing with them a soft weight that felt unpleasant against my skin. The flat soon grew hot and our pajamas too confining, so we chose instead to spend the day sitting on the cool floor of the kitchen in shorts and small camisoles, the refrigerator hanging wide open, ice cubes melting on our exposed skin as the muggy air outside blew into the apartment from the partially opened window.

It should've been a sign – _when it rains, it pours – _but it was so bloody hot that all I could think about was the sticky hair against my neck and the cabinet pressed against my back.

"Dorcas, you need a bloke," Siobhan murmured into our silence. She was the only one laying flat on the floor with her limbs splayed wide, her shirt pulled up a bit and a small puddle of water pooling on her olive-tanned stomach. Her head rolled lazily to meet blue eyes. "Now that I've got Mikhail and Lil and James are official – "

I nudged her knee. "We are _not_."

"Oh, right. They'll be official next week," she said with a smile a harpy would be proud of. "But who are you taking, Dork? I'm not letting you go with Peter again. Ugh. Sorry."

"There is nothing wrong with Peter," Dorcas tutted, crossing her arms. "He is a very sweet boy."

"_Boy. _You need a _man_, Dorcas."

She rolled her eyes and picked herself up off the floor, tossing one of her ice cubes at Siobhan's face. It bounced off of her cheek and rolled down her neck; Siobhan shivered at the cold as Dorcas rolled her eyes.

"I'm just fine going by myself," she said. I'm sure she hadn't meant to stick her chin up in the air like that, or meant to look so much like a pissed off war goddess, but as she marched out of the kitchen, her blonde hair swaying long and golden behind her, I couldn't help but envision her victorious in battle, sword and shield in hand.

Siobhan, on the other hand, looked absurdly mortal as she flicked the puddle of water off of her stomach and sat up, grunting. "Where are you going?" she called.

"Toilet," came Dorcas' short reply.

"Grab my wand while you're back there!" I shouted as the door shut, wanting more than anything to cast what felt like the hundredth cooling charm that day. I'm pretty sure it rolled under my bed with the last charm, when I thought it'd be better to lie on the bedroom floor before Siobhan had introduced me to the linoleum in the kitchen. Why was it so bloody _hot _today?

As if giving a provoked retort, the sky crackled in thunder, ripping open the clouds to send a sudden torrent of rain to the ground. I sighed and closed my eyes, relieved at the sound. Perhaps now the air would have mercy on my skin and frizzed hair. The flat was quiet as Dorcas puttered around in the bathroom and Siobhan hummed a bit beside me, and I focused on the rain sounding through the cracked open window, the music it made as it glanced off of nearby roofs and cars, as it bounced against the pavement, against umbrellas, against benches and streetlights and bus terminals. It was a subtle kind of melody, I thought as I pressed my palms against the floor, leaning my head back against the cabinet. Subtle and unassuming, the way the rain fell and pelted everything in its path, leaving –

"You ever think about God?"

I opened my eyes. Siobhan was staring at me tentatively, her hands toying with the band of her shorts and her teeth fiddling with the ring in her lip. "Really think about Him?"

I'd never thought she… Siobhan had never really been a religious person. Her father was part Irish and took his Catholicism seriously whenever he felt his dose of green-white-orange was lacking, but never did he press his faith on his daughter. Throughout all the years that I'd known her, she'd never brought up her beliefs or God, and I'd never figured it my place to ask. I'm sure she had _some _sort of faith, but I had never known exactly what that was. I couldn't help but wonder why she was bringing it up now or where all this was coming from.

"Yeah," I answered, drawing a long pause. "I have. Why?"

"You think He's watching us right now? Everything we do?"

I frowned, pushing an ice cube off of my thigh. "In some way, yes. But I… I don't think He judges us, though. I think He trusts us to do right by Him, to make our own decisions and trust in ourselves, mostly. It's – it's faith, isn't it?"

And I realized something, then. It was like a peeking epiphany coming out of nowhere, falling like a tiny droplet from the sky to soak into my skin and run through my bloodstream, touching upon every neuron on the way. Faith. Trust. It was _trust._

It wasn't even all about God, though, not really. It was about life. God was a part of it – I felt that He taught us to trust, and then He trusted us to go on trusting others. But somewhere along the way, there would always be obstacles, tests to pass, revelations to happen upon. They'd never happen all at once, of course, and a person would never be finished with their tests – life was an eternity of lessons – but they'd be there to challenge, to help a person live and grow.

My skin tingled from the thought.

Growing up as a muggle had been a challenge, learning to be a witch even more so. My friendship with Snape had been a test on its own. Sitting in the Hospital Wing, debating between bolting and sitting down beside a bruised and bloodied girl that nobody liked, that had been a test for the both Siobhan and I. Dorcas choosing to help her parents through their bankruptcy had been a challenge. James… my row with James had been a lesson, one I hadn't been prepared for, one I had to fight through; it'd been a lesson that I had lived through and came out on the other side, alive, with a new grasp on things. God never threw us into a lesson that we didn't deserve, that he didn't think would help us in some way.

_Trust._

"It goes both ways, doesn't it?" I said, smiling with new knowledge. New confidence. "Faith."

She exhaled. A crack of thunder boomed throughout the flat. "Yeah. But what if – "

"Lily! Where is your sodding wand?"

"In my room," I called to Dorcas, too distracted to tell her it might've rolled underneath my bed or my dresser or somewhere underneath the desk in the corner. I turned back to Siobhan. "What if what?"

"I don't know," she said. She sat up, rivulets of water running down her body, and cocked her head to the side, staring into nothing. It was so disconcerting to see her at a loss for words. "It's just – so God, He watches us, and sometimes… I just – it's hard to think He doesn't judge when people do such bad things. Why would He allow that?"

"People make their own decisions," I said. "He's only there to try and guide us down our own paths."

She shook her head. "But m- but what if people are going somewhere they don't belong…? God can't just let that happen. He _shouldn't. _If He wants us to trust Him, shouldn't He, I don't know, help us? It's not – "

"I found it!" Dorcas exclaimed, running into the room with my wand, giggling. "I found it! It was under your nightstand, Lily, and I found it. Oh, it was _brilliant!_"

My eyebrow slowly inched up my forehead. She was practically dancing in place. "Thanks?"

She must've noticed her odd enthusiasm, because she immediately colored a bright red and handed me my wand before clearing her throat. "Uh, you're welcome."

Siobhan's head fell back against the cabinet with a painful sounding _thunk. _"Congratulations. Excellent job, Dorcas. Woo."

"What's wrong with you?" Dorcas asked, warrior goddess again. Their antagonism towards one another was weird lately, no longer completely joking and definitely off-putting, and I couldn't tell where it was coming from. Dorcas shook her head and didn't wait for an answer. She started mumbling to herself as she fell into the couch, turning the television on.

I watched Siobhan stare at the floor. "You okay? Did you want to keep on…?"

She didn't say anything. I wanted so much to just put my arm around her shoulder, my hand on hers, some comforting gesture, a few words to help restore a bit of her energy, but I didn't know how she'd take it – she never took it well – so instead, I leaned forward to press a quick kiss on her cheek and left her sitting on the floor of the kitchen. I knew she was struggling with her religion – not even her religion, but her self-assurance, her belief in everything, but sometimes a person needed to sit and think. If she wanted to talk, she would come to us first. She always did.

The cooling charm from my wand made me quiver. I turned the wand to my face as I crossed the living room, leaning against the pane of the window and watching as a woman with a black umbrella crossed the street, her parcels clutched close to her chest. Lightning lit the heavens. The clouds were darker now, the rain growing steadily harder. The woman turned her face to the sky, her vibrant red lips pulling up into a smile.

Dorcas gasped.

"Dorcas…?"

"Shh," she hushed, waving a dismissive hand, her eyes glued to the television screen. Her hand disappeared at her side and came back with the remote. There was an odd look on her face. "Listen."

"_Twelve people have been reported as missing in central London in the past week alone," _the news anchor said as I moved to stand beside Dorcas. I watched with growing misgiving as the shot of the anchor disappeared and images of missing people's pictures appeared on screen, flash after flash of a smiling face, a family grouped around a single person, a class picture._ "Investigators can find no recurring pattern in the disappearances, and families are becoming worried as the days go by with no news of their loved ones. No foul play has been found thus far. We turn now to Jim Acosta for more in-depth coverage. Jim?"_

I sank into the couch, watching as Jim Acosta stood in front of an emotional couple, their faces absolutely devastated. My voice came out in a whisper. "You don't think…?"

Dorcas bit her lip. "I don't know, Lily. He's… I've been trying to keep up with all of this, and it just keeps getting worse. The muggles don't know what's going on because it's _him._ It's got to be. How do people go missing without 'foul play?' How do they not… _know_?"

"It was in the _Prophet _this morning," Siobhan said from the kitchen. I turned to watch her pulling her hair into a ponytail, her face a mask of composure. She stared at something sitting on the counter. "Shit's going down."

She picked up the paper and threw it across the room. I leaned against the arm of the couch awkwardly to catch it, sure that it should've fallen just short of my fingers. But I caught a corner of it and pulled it into my lap, staring at the front page with dread bubbling in my stomach. There was a picture of a house in flames, the unmistakable skull and snake hanging in the air. The headline, bold and severe and horrible, threw goosebumps against my arms.

'_DARK REBELLION LOOMS.'_

I think I made a strangled kind of groan deep in my throat.

Dorcas stole the paper from my lap, her eyes skimming at a rapid pace. I didn't want to look at it. Jim Acosta kept interviewing the distraught family on television, the camera recording their mourning. It was wrong. It was wrong to display that kind of emotion, that raw, acrid _pain_, that feeling of losing something dear to you. The muggles didn't know what it was, of course, that took their family members and friends away, but I knew. We knew. Somewhere out there, the people that had been gone missing – had been kidnapped, probably tortured, maybe raped, certainly killed – were somebody's children. They were husbands and wives. They were parents. They were friends.

It was _wrong. _

I got up and started pacing with restless energy. I'd always known, ever since I joined this world, that there was a certain amount of darkness out there. It sounds trite. It sounds completely and absolutely immature, lifted straight from a child's fairy tale, a simple word used to explain away the tainted hate and murder and brutality that lurks even the daytime. But that's what it is: dark.

Evil.

They were called Death Eaters. I wasn't sure when they'd dubbed themselves as such, only that one day we were being taught to fear them, were shown that they were bad, the most despicable excuses for people, killing and mutilating, destroying. They were masked and hooded, mysterious; it was the scariest thing about them. Anybody could be a Death Eater. Anybody you knew – your parents, your siblings, your neighbors, your teachers, your mentors – could've been the one to kidnap a child, torture a father. Anyone. But they followed only one man – one being. And nobody knew where he was.

The Ministry didn't know what to do. In some ways, Dorcas' revulsion of the system was in the right place. People were dying and being kidnapped daily and You-Know-Who was growing stronger by the second, and no form of defense was being seen but the Aurors. But disorganized and chaotic though the Ministry was, they were trying. I couldn't imagine having to fight against something that big, that looming, that intimidating. The most powerful and influential witches and wizards were being killed every day – why would he have any scruples killing a muggleborn teenager with little to no experience with _anything_?

_If He wants us to trust Him, _Siobhan had said,_ Shouldn't He, I don't know, help us?_

Perhaps it was just another big test, but even so, it was… brutal.

Thunder rolled ahead. Jim passed the attention back to the news anchor. Siobhan's humming picked up again, a mournful, slow tune, an almost empty ballad. Dorcas sighed.

_I wonder what it's like, _I thought, looking at the two of them and feeling my heart constrict, _to lose the things most important to you._

I hoped I'd never have to find out.

"I don't want to do this."

I was surprised, at first, that the words came from Siobhan. She leaned against the arm of the couch, shaking her head, her gray eyes a little red around the edges. "Voldemort's a fucking _monster. _And what the hell is the Ministry doing to stop this shit? It's bloody sodding disgraceful, and I don't…"

Half of me expected Dorcas to upbraid Siobhan for her language, but I hadn't at all expected for her to stand up and cross the room, taking tiny little Siobhan in her arms. She struggled for a moment, pushing against Dorcas' sides, but when Dorcas didn't let go and the news switched to an advertisement, Siobhan relented. She didn't reciprocate the hug, but her muscles relaxed, and her forehead pressed against Dorcas' collarbone.

I leaned against the wall and stared at the two of them, so extremely different from one another. Dorcas leaned her chin on the top of Siobhan's head, her hand rubbing soothing circles into her small shoulderblades.

Siobhan turned her head to find my eyes. "I think Mel is with them."

There was no question as to the _who _she was referring to, but I couldn't – didn't want to – believe it. _This is what she's been struggling with, this is where all of her questions about God came from, why her faith completely disappeared. Possibly the worst thing of all. _I felt light headed at the sudden confession. "You – you what?"

"I think that's why he went to Nella, why he left me that night. We were talking about this – it was the day Benjy Fenwick went missing, remember? I don't even… we were just talking, no big thing, and I had mentioned how the Ministry needed to start throwing people into Azkaban, how we weren't paying all this money for them to sit around on their asses and file paperworkall damn day. I said that I'd even help out if that's what it would take for me to keep my relatives from disappearing. And he just… he kind of freaked the fuck out, and the next thing I knew he was gone. I didn't want to tell you because I was scared," she said, finally pushing Dorcas away. She swiped at her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, avoiding our eyes. "So, there. That's the story. Surprise."

_Wow._

"Did he ever – " I paused, trying to get the wording right in my head before Siobhan shut down on us. "Did he ever mention anything suspicious? Did you – had he given any hints before?"

"Yes, Lily," she spat, rolling her eyes. "Of course I knew. Of course I wanted to marry a bloody fiend."

"Siobhan…"

She recoiled at the gentility in Dorcas' voice. It was too much too soon, and she should've known that, but… still.

"Don't."

"Shiv, stop, look at me," Dorcas said, trying to grab Siobhan's wrist.

Her glare brought Dorcas up short. "_Don't – touch – me," _she growled before stomping to her room, slamming her door behind her. The music started soon after, loud and pounding even when dulled by a quieting charm.

I pushed myself off the wall as Dorcas fell back onto the couch, throwing an arm over her face. "I don't know what to say to her anymore. Her mood swings are off the charts."

"She's going through a lot right now," I said, feeling a feeble defense rise up in my chest. Truth to be told, I didn't know what to say either. Mel's reaction was far from what I'd expected of him – and pretty suspicious. I hadn't known him too well, but, though his family was quite old-fashioned in terms of pureblood-muggle relations, he was always kindly and held a smile for me when we passed one another in the hallways or ran into each other in the library.

His… friendship, relationship, whatever, with Genella Burke wasn't as unexpected either. She wasn't the most beautiful girl, but, like Siobhan, she was very charismatic and very, very smart. Unlike Siobhan: she was a Slytherin, which was probably where Siobhan's buried insecurities and fears were coming from. I'd had no hints throughout our school years that Nella was a supporter of the Dark Lord – she was a genial girl, albeit a gossipy one – but that was the thing about Voldemort.

You never knew.

So I didn't try to fumble for a reason or try to explain the paths that were being taken right now. "I can't believe that Mel would do that though – join the Death Eaters. He never seemed that type…"

The muscles around Dorcas' mouth tensed, and if I could've seen her eyes, they probably would've been tight, hard with a rare fierceness that was frightening in her. "It's always the ones you don't expect, isn't it?"

"I guess, but – "

Her voice was unusually hard as she bit out, "She'll be fine."

"Maybe she won't," I said after a long silence. "She can't be strong all the time, Dorcas."

"She needs to be."

I heard the teary words she couldn't say, the words I could feel whispering in my own heart: _She needs to be strong for us. _Siobhan was always the fighter, always the defender, the rock. She stood forever strong while Dorcas and I struggled with the emotions of teenagers growing up; she was the shadow always a step behind me, anticipating my falls, ready – if not willing – to push me back up where I belonged. It was her I could depend on for the honest, salty, bitter truth that Dorcas was sometimes unwilling to give me. Bold and courageous, spirited, outspoken; it was Siobhan I thought of when someone said _Gryffindor_, despite all of her insistence upon truly belonging to Slytherin. She was ours.

But everybody falls sometimes.

"I'm going… I'm going to go check on her," Dorcas murmured. She pushed herself off the couch, tugged at one of her braids, watched me watch her. "She's – yeah. I'll be back."

It occurred to me briefly that I should be concerned for her safety, but Dorcas squared her shoulders as she walked down the hall, and the music quieted a noticeable amount when she shut the door behind her. I closed my eyes, trying to drown out the shouting voices down the hall with the volume of the television, trying – _trying – _to skip quickly over the news channel, to find something that wouldn't remind me of death or Voldemort, that stupid headline – _'DARK REBELLION LOOMS' – _pressing against my eyelids. I settled for a stupid movie that reminded me of my mother, following the predictable plot with dulled attention.

Attempt though I might, I could not ignore the sound of Siobhan's pained voice, choked with what I imagined to be tears, echoing down the hall. "_I loved him!"_

The rain fell. God threw down a bolt of lightning.

Maybe… Maybe Siobhan didn't have to be strong. Maybe it wasn't Siobhan herself that was strong, but the people around her. If there was anything that I was certain of, more than anything else, it was that Gryffindor was home. Sure, she felt more welcomed in the House of the Snake, but she was born into the Lion, and we took the difficult little bugger because she was one of us. Maybe she didn't have to be strong, but we would be – all of us – whether she wanted to claim us or not.

Maybe it wasn't a test for her alone – maybe she was meant to reach out for help.

Maybe it was _trust._

"_God damn it, Meadowes! Don't fucking touch me!"_

I reached for the phone – ready to test my own faith – just as the sound of shattering glass reached my ears.


	16. Incoming

_A/N: I AM BACK, AND HAVE GRADUATED! HUZZAH! (This is completely unedited - by me or my beta - so you're getting a raw cut here. I know it's short, I'm sorry! It's also nearly three in the morning and I am way tired, so we'll see if we can organize something like an edit sometime tomorrow. But in the meantime, enjoy this, laugh at what errors there are, and forgive me my absence! I love you all and I will respond to your reviews soon!)_

_As always,  
Mina the Repentant_

_ETA: Siobhan is pronounced "shi-VAWN," or like the name Shivonne would be said. It's Irish. I've added a little Quiet Summer section to my profile for random things for this story, so if you're ever inclined, check it out. Thorough edit is coming sometime later today._

_ETA 9/18/08!: THE ENDING HAS BEEN EDITED. It will change a little of next chapter, so... I hope you read so you're not confused when next chapter comes around :P_

* * *

**SIXTEEN: INCOMING**

* * *

I met Dorcas on September first, 1971. Her hair was short, then. She was a little scrawny, too, if that can be believed; she was thin and petite and her clothes were a little big for her, as if they were preparing for the growth spurts waiting for her in the future. Looking at pictures from that first year and comparing them to the woman I know today, not much is the same besides those bright blue eyes and cornflower blonde hair. The smile's the same, too.

On our first day of Hogwarts, she sat on the stool in front of her peers for a long few minutes (she later told me that the Hat was debating between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and that she asked to go to Hufflepuff because her favorite color was yellow), before finally joining us at Gryffindor. She slid right in beside me, bumping into my shoulder a little as her momentum carried her too far sideways, and blushed in apology before turning to watch Muller, Julia be sorted into Ravenclaw.

"She told me she'd be in Ravenclaw," Dorcas had whispered to me, leaning into me again. She was so close that her hair had tickled my nose. She smelled like flowers.

I didn't know what to say to that, so I smiled politely like I used to see my mom do with the neighbors, and nodded. Dorcas smiled back – there was a gap between her two front teeth – before facing the front again. We picked beds right beside one another that night and didn't fall asleep until late, whispering underneath the cover of the dark about classes and the castle and those crazy boys we sat next to at dinner. She was the kindest person I knew.

So when I heard the shattering of glass, whatever it had been, my first thought was that Siobhan had hurt her, somehow. My reaction – driven by mere nerves, jumpy and wound-up though they were – would've surprised me if I hadn't been running on pure, sudden adrenaline. I was down the hall before the sound of the receiver falling against the counter registered in my ears, and my hands were throwing open the door before I could pull my wand or pause to think about what it was, exactly, that I was running into.

It could've been anything, given what we were just discussing. It was stupid to assume there was nothing on the other side of the door; shattering glass never signified anything _good. _But when I yanked open the door, there was no screaming or flying curses or dark-hooded shadows anywhere. There _was_ broken glass.

And blood.

It took a moment to register what I was seeing. Dorcas stood, barely breathing, near the foot of the bed, and Siobhan was lying slumped on the floor, pieces of glass lying around her and on her skin. The mirror behind her was cracked, a spider web of lines crisscrossing around a central point in the middle, the backboard of the mirror showing in a few places where the glass had broken off. It looked like a horror movie come to life.

I couldn't move from the doorway. "What…"

"S-she came at me," Dorcas gasped, her wide, unblinking eyes staring at a spot of blood on the cracked mirror. Her normally tan skin was pale. "I don't – it's not – "

"What did you _do_?" I breathed. I ran to Siobhan's slouched side and sat her up, grimacing as her head lolled back into my arm and warm blood stained my skin. Broken pieces of mirror glittered across the floor. "Shiv – Shiv, come on, you need to stay awake. What did you do, Dorcas?"

"She came at me!" she said, shaking her head. She would not look at Siobhan. "I just – I put my hands out to hold her away a-and she flew back into the mirror. She was going to hit me, Lily."

I rubbed a hand against Siobhan's arm and tried to get her awake. Blood was dripping from the back of her head and I could feel a few scratches on her elbows from where she must've made impact. I could only hope that she hadn't gotten any glass in – abruptly I leaned down to check for a heartbeat, scolding myself for not making sure she was breathing the second I got in the room. Thankfully it was there, strong and steady.

"Siobhan, come on. Wake up."

Dorcas crossed her arms and backed up until her calves hit the bed. "I'm… I don't – "

"You can't do that to me, I almost had a heart attack. What if it had been something else?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It'll be fine," I said, shaking my head, completely doubtful that everything would be _fine_. Head wounds were dangerous. I didn't know what to do – there was so much blood – and what if she wouldn't wake up? What if she stayed unconscious for a while? Should we ring for her parents? Take her to Mungo's? Hold a washrag to the back of her head and hope for the best?

Dorcas and I stared at one another for a long moment before I could take a shaky breath. "Can you… can you get a towel? And maybe my healing book, in my trunk? Do you think…? I don't know, I can't – "

"Yeah." She nodded once and left the room.

I leaned forward a little more and gripped Siobhan around the waist, careful to keep her from falling onto her face. Glass was jabbing into my knees, but I could only focus on the steady flow of blood streaming from the back of her head and the matted texture of her now auburn-colored hair. Thank God it was only Dorcas and not Voldemort, not Death Eaters.

Dorcas quickly returned and shoved something into my hand before escaping again, avoiding my eyes.

I pressed the cloth against the base of Siobhan's head. It took a moment of murmuring her name and pleads for her to wake up before I realized what it was that Dorcas had handed me. "A pot holder?"

"…the fuck did I get a pot holder?"

It was mumbled, a bit garbled, and almost unintelligible, but I'd heard it. A second later, Siobhan's stomach jumped underneath my hand and her coughing back shook against my chest. I helped her sit up, keeping my hand, and the pot holder, pressed tightly against her head.

"Ow! Dammit, Lily… gerroff… me."

"You're hurt; sit still," I said. I pushed my free hand against her hip to keep her from moving.

"There's s-something sticking into my ass," she growled, digging her nails into my wrist. "I'll sit, just… can I adjust? Please?"

I would've laughed if I hadn't been covered in her blood. "Yeah. Here, don't move your head too much, alright?"

We moved together as she shuffled to the side. She winced as I pushed the pot holder harder against her head once we got settled; surprise froze my free hand as she leaned back against me again. We were quiet, sounds of Dorcas' mumbling and rummaging around from my bedroom sounding through the adjacent wall, until Siobhan's eyes started drooping.

"Hey, you need to stay awake," I commanded, pinching her thigh. "Don't go to sleep."

Her face scrunched up as she whined, "I hurt."

"I know you do, but you need to stay with me," I said. "Tell me what happened."

She frowned. "Where's Dorcas?"

"She's looking for a book so I can find a spell to fix your head. What happened?"

"I don't…" Siobhan trailed off, trying to shake her head. She dragged in a hissing breath and stilled quickly, writhing slightly against my knees. I wanted to turn away; I took my other hand and placed it firmly against her forehead, keeping her head still. "Lily…"

"I know," I said. The unexpected, plaintive childishness of her voice was throwing me off, and it made me want to cry. She was so small… "Keep your eyes on the bedpost, okay? Focus there. Talk to me. How'd you hit your head?"

"We were… we were talking about Mel? We were talking about Mel, and she… she kept trying to hug me and shit, you know how she does when we get all emotional. And I didn't want her to touch me, and I went to push her away, and… she just… I don't know. She stepped back with her hands out, and I felt myself fly backwards into the mirror."

"Did she push you?" I asked, picking a piece of glass off of her forearm. "Or did she use a spell?"

"I don't remember if she had her wand," she said, training her eyes on the other side of the room. She tried to shake her head again but whimpered against my tight hold on her head. "I think she pushed me, I was moving towards her. I don't know. Fuckin' hurts, though. Christ. Can't you do something?"

"Not without that book. Pomfrey's only taught us so much, and I don't trust myself to poke around with a head wound unless I know what I'm doing," I said.

She chuckled softly. "Me either. But pain? Any fancy pain charms or anything?"

"Can you sit up on your own?"

"I'm not disabled," she mumbled, replacing my hand on the pot holder against her head. She closed her eyes, and I noticed her hand shake a little as she leaned forward. I sat back and pulled my wand from my pocket, wondering what basic medical spell I could be proficient enough to use. And where the hell was Dorcas?

"Sometime in the next minute would be wonderful, Lily," Siobhan hissed. "It feels like my skull's going to explode."

"I'm thinking – "

"Think faster?"

"It'd probably be best if you stopped talking."

"You – "

Siobhan's mouth fell shut as Dorcas slid back into the room, thrusting the book towards me. "Here."

"Thanks," I said, grabbing it from her. I skimmed few a few pages until I found what I needed and looked up to find the two of them pointedly looking away from one another. Sighing – because this was _just _what I needed – I took hold of Siobhan's arm and gently pulled us to our feet. "We'll do this in the bathroom. Would you mind, uh…"

Dorcas nodded, waving her arm at the mess on the floor. "Yeah. I got this. You just… yeah."

When we made our way into the bathroom and to the edge of the tub, Siobhan rolled her eyes. I ignored it. Though usually, obviously aggressive, the girl could have some enormous passive-aggressive issues. Taking the pot holder away from her head, I smoothed her hair back from the cut and read over the spell one more time.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Siobhan said. She fidgeted. I glanced down to see her knuckles white around the edge of the tub.

I pulled my wand. "Nope. But there's a first time for everything, yeah?"

I could've sworn she whimpered before her voice, steady: "Yeah. Do it."

The first spell was a fairly simple antibacterial spell to clean the wound. The second was a bit more complex, to close the skin, and Siobhan couldn't help but make an audible hiss as the spell pulled her skin tight, practically sewing it shut. As soon as I said, "Alright, you're good," she was out of the room, and I could hear her stomping into the kitchen and wrenching open cabinets.

"Well," I sighed.

Getting up, I moved over to the sink to wash my hands and my arms. The shirt was ruined – covered in blood, ripped at the bottom where I must've scraped it against some glass on the floor – and my face was much more pale than was natural.

_Breathe, Lily._

"Do we not have anything for headaches?" Siobhan bellowed.

"It's your flat _and _you're a witch," I replied, crossing the hall into my room to change clothes. I poked my head out of the doorway. "So you're doubly stupid if you can't do something to help your problem."

She glared at me.

I heard another sigh from Siobhan's room and almost snickered aloud. Dorcas entered as I was pulling on a plain t-shirt and some jeans. Wordlessly she sat down, and wordlessly I closed the door behind her, debating for a quick second before taking a seat next to her on the bed. She was quiet.

"Did you do it on purpose?"

Motionless save the instant frown on her face, she said to the floor, "No, I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't push her on purpose. It was automatic, you know? If someone came at you, you would defend yourself, right?"

She didn't wait for a response. "Look," she said. "I think I'm going to go visit Remus. It's been a while since I've seen him and I think he could use the company."

"Dorcas," I said, rubbing her back. "You don't have to leave, Siobhan's not going to be angry with you. It was an accident. I'm sure she understands that."

Dorcas shook her head. "Yeah, no, I know that. I just… I think I should leave for a while." She finally looked up at me. "You know Siobhan and I don't bring out the best in each other. You're kind of the reason we're friends."

"That's not… true."

I frowned. Was that true? Certainly it wasn't, I thought, trying to remember back to when we had all become friends. I remember Siobhan and I, together in the Hospital Wing, and Dorcas and I at the Gryffindor table on that first day, but I can't remember Dorcas and Siobhan. Of course, that could be because I wasn't _there_, that it was their thing to remember, their moment, but…

"It's not," I said, shaking my head. They'd always been friends. "I'll go talk to Shiv, and – "

She took my hand and squeezed it. "I just think," she said, "That it's best for us all if I get out of here for a while. Give us a breather. Alright? I cleaned up the mess in Shiv's room and packed already, so I'm just going to slip out. Are you staying here to get ready for the gala?"

I nodded. "It's tomorrow night, yeah?"

"Yeah." She stood up and tugged on a strand of my hair. "Thanks, Lil. Love you."

"You too," I said, smiling up at her. "Tell Remus I said hello."

After she left, after Siobhan took care of her headache and I checked to make sure the spell on her head was still in place, we went to our separate ends of the flat. She shut herself in her room shortly after I made sure she wasn't bleeding all over the place and I was left to myself, bored, mulling over everything that had just happened and thinking that, yeah, this place was not big enough for three women.

"What to do, what to do," I murmured, pacing the short space between the kitchen and the living room. My eyes fell upon the telephone. I_ had _been about to call someone before all the drama went down…

I picked up the receiver, biting my lip before dialing the number I had, sadly, already memorized. It rang several times and I was almost about to call it a day before he answered, breathless.

"Hello? Hello?"

I had to smile – _had _to. "Potter, you don't have to yell."

"Evans!" he said. There was a pause as I imagined his hand covering the receiver, shouting _time out, time out! t_o someone in the background. The happiness in his voice was nearly tangible as he came back. "So, what can I do for you?"

"Just a little favor…"


	17. Dusk

_A/N: Here we are: seventeen. Finally, after a long, long time. This chapter may be a bit... I don't know, weird? It feels kinda weird, in the scope of things, at least to me, but maybe that's because I haven't written for this story for a while. It is a little fast at the end, and I know that, but I imagine this really going down at this stage. Anyway, thank you all for being wonderfully patient and amazing and just, guh, everything I could ask for in readers, and I hope I haven't let you down.  
_

_I am so sorry to have kept you all waiting._

_As always,  
Mina :)_

* * *

**SEVENTEEN: DUSK**

* * *

Back when we had been in the beginning stages of our friendship, that hesitant phase between fighting (because it was hopeless) and timid smiles (because somehow, for some reason, it was worth it), it had been just like this. We had struggled to find a comfort zone with one another, wholly unaccustomed to any kind of closeness, let alone speaking like equals and not enemies, but sometimes, when I would let myself relax into it, it would strike me how easy it all was. James would crack a joke, I would laugh, and we would move on to the next thing.

Eventually, it became simple. Nice.

Eventually, James became my friend.

But then, of course, we had ruined it. The two of us couldn't exist for too long like we had been – we were too volatile, I guess; too… us. There had always been that underlying tension there, too much in our pasts that couldn't go without saying, and it'd been something we'd always ignored because had we brought it out into the open, it would've just destroyed things that much quicker. So it had settled, lurking behind conversations and games – we knew it was there, waiting, but we had pushed it away for another time.

That had turned out well in the end.

There was one point where we had been close, so close, to actually talking about it. Looking back, I probably should've recognized it then as a precursor to the blowout that was to come at King's Cross, but at the time it had just been another setback, another disappointment in our efforts to get along.

We'd been sitting in the common room, in front of the fire, working late on a long Transfiguration essay due the next morning. The both of us had been too busy to complete it earlier in the week – Quidditch and pranking for him, Prefect duties and tutoring for me – so as night fell and candlelight rose, we found ourselves working together, alone, yet again.

After a long stretch of silence, he threw down his quill and stretched his arms above his head until his joints popped. The sound caught my attention and I had turned just in time to catch the small stretch of skin showing below his shirt, the slight bit of hair there, the tan color of his skin, so much darker than mine.

Blushing, I had turned away. I didn't think he caught it – thank God, and what was _wrong _with me? – because he said, "I am too buggering tired for this," and flopped down onto the floor.

"It's Transfiguration, Potter. You should be in heaven with this," I said, my face shoved into a book, the easier to hide my red face. _Animagi are of rare numbers and – _

He groaned, rolling over his essay and books to face me, his glasses askew. It may have been a little adorable. "That's just it. I know it all already; it's so easy."

"Oh, really." I reached over him to snatch up what I thought was his in-progress essay only to see that it had been completed already – all four feet of it. He had even gone so far as to write smaller than usual, expanding the margins of the page until he'd almost gone off the edges on both sides.

Huh.

I looked up at him. "Is this your essay?"

He pushed his glasses on correctly and ran a hand through his hair. And _that _may have been nerves. "Uh. Yes it is."

"I thought you said you hadn't even looked at it," I said, glancing at the date on his paper that read, ah, yes, exactly one week ago. The day the paper was assigned. "You lied?"

He sighed at the anger in my voice, reaching out to take the parchment from my fingers. I almost gripped it as he pulled it away, wishing to rip the bloody thing in half, but we were supposed to be working on tolerance. He cracked his knuckles and shut his book before answering.

"It's not easy finding excuses to be around you, Evans," he said, and if I hadn't been so angry I would've felt bad. A little. He shook his head before looking me in the eyes. "You make it difficult."

And this is where I should've tried that patience thing that works wonders. I should've listened, should've tried to understand, instead of flying into a tizzy like I'd been used to doing with him. Instead I glared at him and slammed my book shut, as well. "I don't make it _difficult, _Potter! You're just… it's not… I don't fancy you, okay? I _don't_. So please excuse me if just being friends is enough for me."

He reeled. My heart hurt to remember the look on his face. It was like I'd betrayed him. His back straightened and his eyes, previously so content, turned to stone.

"Even if I didn't fancy you, Evans, being your friend isn't such an easy task," he bit out, pulling his wand to gather his things. "You're cool one day and right friendly the next, but which one I'm going to come across at any given time is hard to say. If you want to go back to how it was, fine, but don't blame this on me fancying you. This has everything to do with _you._"

And he had left.

The next day, after not sleeping a wink and turning in my rather horrible essay, I sat next to him in the Great Hall amid glances from the other Marauders. It was clear that he'd told them what had happened – Sirius had sighed, Remus looked at me with searching, curious eyes, and Peter smiled timidly, in his own way trying to console us both. We were quiet until I had whispered to James that I was sorry, in my own way ("I was wrong, Potter"), and he had nodded.

Things had been okay after that. At least up until The Row that finally revealed that I had, indeed, had a crush on James, too. And the rest was working itself out day by day.

Of course, it's still the same issues. There was still that same hesitant, treading-in-open-water feeling, but it was a little different. There were still the doubts and questions – _would that be wrong to say? Would he be offended if I laughed? Does he mean that like it sounds or how I think he means it? Do I want him to mean it like that? – _but there were also new ones, ones that were worse.

_What is he thinking when he looks at me like that?_

_Should I ask before grabbing his hand, or should I just do it? Does he want to hold my hand? Should I wrap an arm around his waist, instead? Will he think me too forward?_

_Does he remember that kiss? Would he want me to kiss him like that?_

_Why do I want to jump his bones all of a sudden?_

I was more than sure he'd enjoy that, but just yesterday – _yesterday! _It felt like such a long time ago – we had agreed on taking things slow. Pushing him up against a building and having my way with him would be warp speeds away from slow.

"Okay, what?"

Visions of our past and of snogging him in an alleyway disappeared, bringing back the dusky London streets and his amused yet concerned – I've learned to tell the hints in his expression – look hiding behind his smirking face.

I figured "Pardon?" was the safest thing to say.

He gently prodded at my forehead as we walked. "That line, right there, means you're in some Serious Thought. Either you're thinking of what an amazing bloke I am or you're planning to drag me into a side street somewhere and kill me."

_Too close. _"Not even, Potter."

"Somehow I don't believe you," he said, grinning. "But we'll let it go for now."

I smiled at him, grateful. He was a saint for coming out here so late. It was only seven, but I knew he had other things to do with his family, especially with the ball coming up soon. He had told me not to worry about it when he had arrived at the flat, said that it was only him and Sirius wasting time playing Black Ball again ("Sirius says he's sorry you didn't get to play last time you saw him, but definitely next time around"), and that he was glad that I had asked.

We'd left just about half an hour ago, walking slowly through the streets of London, talking about Hogwarts and what we were looking forward to in the next year. We were avoiding the important things, as always – what we were going to do about _us, _for one; what had happened earlier today, for another – but I just wanted a moment to be with him when things weren't going to hell around us.

I hadn't looked away before catching the sudden frown on his face, and his grip on my hand tightened. "Everything's okay, though, right? You're not really – "

"No, no," I insisted. A loud trolley rumbled by, honking loudly at the taxi in front of it, and we turned the corner, almost bumping into a man and his young daughter, before I continued. "I just wanted to take a walk, get a breather. I figured I'd ask you to join me."

He stared at me. "Honest?"

I shouldn't have paused. I _shouldn't _have. The man knew every minute thing about my face, could read the smallest twitch in my lips from a block away, could read my body language like a book, and I paused like he wouldn't know what was going on inside my head.

Right, Lily. Good one.

He stopped, pulling me underneath a street lamp and out of the way of pedestrians, and put his hands on my shoulders. "What?"

"It's nothing," I told him. "I can't just ask you on a walk?"

"I'm not going to stop asking you until you tell me. We're supposed to be honest with one another."

"I thought that was just yesterday."

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. He smiled. It was a little one, but it made me feel better. "The honesty thing goes on forever and always." Then, grasping my hand instead, he pulled me in the opposite direction. "Come on, we'll go somewhere else and you're going to tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

**-QS-**

We ended up in the park. The dark trees surrounding us felt a bit like the Forbidden Forest and gave me a surprising twinge of homesickness that only served to remind me of everything else that was going on. Thankfully the area was lit, but I couldn't help but look behind me every few seconds as we walked, paranoid of something sneaking up on me.

James chose a bench in front of a large statue, sitting down and turning to face me. It was obvious he meant business, especially when he reached over and took my hands, but I couldn't look him in the eye. What was I supposed to say? That I was afraid of his side of life, the magical side, because I was a mudblood? That my best friends were being strange and fighting with one another? That I missed him when I wasn't supposed to, that I thought about him at odd hours of the day, even when it'd only been a few hours after I had last seen him?

Guys don't like crazy girlfriends, and that's what I felt like.

"Really, Potter," I said, trying desperately to ignore the way his thumb slid across my knuckles. "I'm fine. I just wanted to see you."

For a moment I thought I had him. It was playing to my advantage, I knew, and it was horribly unfair, judging by the look on his face, but he rolled his eyes immediately after and narrowed his eyes. "Nope. Let's go, Evans. Be honest."

I turned away. He continued stroking his thumbs across my hands, which was helping, kind of, but not really, and I couldn't think straight. That was always a problem around him, the thinking thing. Either I was doing too much of it or not enough.

"It's just…" I began, telling myself that I needed to start trusting him _some_time. He had proven himself, hadn't he? "You know how, on the news, they keep showing these missing persons reports? And how they show the pictures?"

"Yeah?"

"It just scares me, because that could be me one day, you know?"

James let go of my hands and instead draped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me flush against his side. I leant my head in his neck and let go, murmuring everything that had gripped my heart when I first saw those faces splashed on the television for everyone to see.

I told him of the picture in the _Prophet, _the green skull and snake hanging high above, and how I used to dream about it above my own house, used to dream of my mother dying, my sister dead, and how alone I would feel when I woke up. I told him things I hadn't really told anybody but Dorcas before, like my fears when I was younger, how I was afraid that I wouldn't turn out like my peers, that I'd be inadequate or that I'd end up a mistake, somehow. I told him how stupid I felt sometimes, surrounded by wealthy, pureblooded witches and wizards. I told him about Snape. I told him about Petunia. I told him about Siobhan's surprising revelation and how false I wanted it to be. I told him of my anger towards Death Eaters and Voldemort, about how frightened but furious it made me, how helpless it made me feel, how much hatred I had towards that stupid man.

And through it all – I don't know how long we sat like that, my head in his neck and his arm around my shoulder – he stayed quiet, making reassuring "it's okay" and "hmm" noises when I would run out of words, when all I could seem to focus on was the soft skin of his wrist, smooth underneath my fingers. He would kiss me on the forehead and it would prompt more, my mouth would start up again, and we'd keep going, he and I, trying to cleanse this thing in my chest.

When it felt like everything was out in the open, all honest, and I was spent, he exhaled. It blew a few strands of hair out of his eyes and I couldn't help but giggle at the sight. He looked down at me, his eyes so full of something that looked dangerously like love, and smiled. "Feel better now?"

Nodding wasn't enough. I stretched my neck to place a gentle kiss against his lips, whispering to him a "thank you" that could never be as big as he deserved. Still, though, when I pulled back, his eyes were still shut, a far-off look on his face.

I curled up against his side, resting my head on his chest. I felt his chin rest in my hair. An elderly couple walked by and smiled as we settled in, nostalgia in the lines of their upturned lips, and I couldn't help but think of what we looked like to them, of how much progress this situation really held for us.

Small miracles.

James started twisting a strand of my hair around his finger. "So we're being honest, right?"

"Yes_. _Always honest, remember?"

"I have a question, then."

A question wouldn't be so hard, not after all the things I had just revealed. I nodded. "Go for it."

He paused. Now, where he knows the smallest of my expressions, I can read his silences like an expert. When I had been in denial all those months ago, telling myself that liking Potter was out of the question, finding things in what he _didn't _say kept up that fancy I had for him. He could tease all he wanted, but I had known the phantom ends of those sentences all along.

So he paused, and I wished I hadn't turned my back into the crook of his shoulder, all the more comfortable, because I couldn't see his face. "What?"

"When did you decide you fancied me? Really, truly fancied me."

I sighed. "Before or after I stopped hiding it from myself?"

"After," he said. It sounded like a question.

"After King's Cross." His hand, resting on my shoulder, paused a beat, then continued rubbing lazy circles. I shook my head. "It's not like… I mean, I know what you're thinking – "

"Oh?"

I pinched his thigh at the humored tone in his voice. "Yes, I do. It's not like I started liking you because you'd… left. Well, maybe it is, but it was like a slap in the face. You'd always been there, and then suddenly you weren't, and it took that to tell myself what it was I felt for you."

He was silent.

I allowed this, his heartbeat steady against my head, his warmth pleasant as the sun fell beneath the city skyline. Crickets chirped above the sound of nearby traffic, his heart pounding _th-thump _in my ear, and if I had ever thought being with him would be some kind of nightmare, I was horribly, horribly wrong.

"We were in third year," he said out of nowhere, interrupting my dazed examination of the scar on his forearm. "And, you know, we were thirteen, so it's not like I had all these deep feelings or thoughts all the time. Puberty was rearing its ugly head and all." He chuckled. "But third year, you remember that kid with the glasses and the red hair?"

"Quentin," I whispered, remembering the precise moment he was thinking about. _Wow. _

"Yeah. Fell right down those last three steps, his papers all over the floor, his glasses cracked, bleeding on his chin. Big mess. I remember laughing." I felt him shake his head, and a reprimand stalled on my tongue. "I know it was wrong, Lily, but come on: thirteen. So I was laughing, and I see you come running up from behind, your hair all blazing in the sun coming in from the stained glass window in the corner. I remember thinking you were pretty, then, even though you were a mean ol' harpy."

I rolled my eyes, his deep chuckle loud against my ear.

He kissed my forehead apologetically. "You _were_, but that's not the point. So you come running up, hair flying, your mouth pressed up in that concerned little knot you get when you're all concerned, and you say, 'Quentin, you've got to watch that second step, I've told you that a million times.' And, I don't know, just the way you said it made me jealous."

"James. You were _jealous? _Of _Quentin_?"

"Hey, I was a kid! I tripped over that stair once and you said, 'Watch your step, Potter,' and all your little friends laughed. I was deeply wounded by that."

I turned in his grasp so I could look up at him. "Really? _That _was when you started to fancy me?"

He smirked. "Yup. Nothing too glamorous. Just you helping up some kid. It was pretty sweet of you, considering he was in Slytherin."

"It was sweet of me considering you did nothing but _laugh,_" I teased. "You were such a brat."

"Okay, Evans, whatever you say. You're the one sitting with me, so I don't want to hear it." He leaned back satisfactorily, as if his word was the end of things. "Lily fancies Jaaames," he sang into my ear. "Lily fancies Jaaames."

"Whatever you say," I echoed. "You're lucky of it."

For a moment, his face sobered. For a moment, I thought he was going to say it. The look in his eyes – he might as well have been shouting it at me: _I love you, love you, love you. _What would I have done if he had? Ran away? Stuttered an excuse, my face red, my hands pulled from his? Said _I can't?_ _Not yet? I haven't proved to you that you should? I'm not ready? This is too soon? We should slow, slow, slow down?  
_

But he didn't. Maybe he read the panic in the lines around my mouth, the crease in my forehead. Instead he just said, "Yeah," and "I'm real lucky," but when he kissed me, when I pressed my fingers against the pulse in his neck, I felt it loud in clear in his hands, warm against my back, and his lips, patient and lovely, against mine. The feel of it all – he might as well have spoken it into my breath, straight into my soul: "I love you."

But he didn't.

"Yeah," I whispered.

The crickets sang and a car, outside of our park haven, honked its horn.


	18. Snowball

_A/N: I'm not happy with this for various reasons, but I've been working with it a lot lately and it feels like it's as good as it's going to get. We're getting to the gala soon - this was a necessary chapter to get things moving again. _

_Thank you all so, so much for your consistent, wonderful support and kind words. I wouldn't be able to do any of this without you. _

_As always,  
Mina :)_

* * *

**EIGHTEEN: SNOWBALL**

* * *

The sun had fully fallen by the time we ran out of words, settling instead against one another, my head against his chest and our fingers laced. I had always been enamored with his hands, truth to be told: they were just so much bigger than mine. He was an animated bloke, always gesturing when he spoke or told stories or argued with girls that infuriated him, and when I had started paying more attention to him, a lot of my attention had been drawn to his hands – grasping a snitch, running through his hair, holding a quill, leafing through a book…

And now here they were, holding my own.

"Hey Potter?"

"Hmm?"

Poor thing sounded sleepy. I raised our entwined fingers to press my lips to his hand, enjoying the way his heart skipped against my ear. "Thank you."

He craned his head down to meet my eyes. "For what?"

At my shrug, he grinned and shook his head.

This was so much an extreme from a few months ago that it couldn't possibly be my life now – maybe it was unbelievable for a reason. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I'd wake up tomorrow morning and I'd be back in sixth year when we hated one another or, worse yet, maybe I'd wake up to the days after our fight, when I wasn't sure what direction my life was going –

"No," James said as he watched my face. He squeezed my shoulder. "Nope. It's all over your face, Evans, and I want it out of your head before it transfers to mine and I have a breakdown."

I laughed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You can say that all you'd like as long as you're not thinking those thoughts anymore." He put his hands on my waist and pulled us up, and then turned his back to me, pulling my arms around his neck. "Come on, I'm taking you home. We've got a long day tomorrow. Hop up."

I did as he told, wrapping my legs around his waist and leaning my head against his. He walked without speaking for a few minutes, humming along tunelessly to a random song in his head. The streets were quiet with little passersby, but I could hear the busier part of town up ahead, the sounds of traffic and the busy city life like a distant, buzzing hum. I sighed, leaning more heavily into him.

"I'm sleepy," I murmured into his ear.

A shiver ran up his spine. "Are you?"

"Yeah." I toyed with the neck of his t-shirt, running my fingers along the soft skin on his neck. That distracted us both for another quiet moment, and I think I was half-dozing when I heard a quiet shuffle behind us.

Keeping my arms around his neck, I turned my head to look.

Nothing. The streetlights cast ominous shadows upon the sidewalk, but there was nothing there.

"James?" I murmured, unaware that I was almost strangling him with how tightly I was holding on. "James…"

His hands tightened around my legs. "I know."

"Is someone there? How long have you _known_? Why didn't you tell me?" I hissed, feeling his pulse pick up against the hand I had splayed against his chest. He _had _been walking a bit faster ever since we turned that corner a few blocks back…

"To avoid this reaction," he murmured, his voice rough. "Shh."

He let go of my legs for a second, leaving me hanging onto his back like a koala on a tree, and I almost laughed at the picture if not for the adrenaline and the fear I could feel creeping through my nerves. Another shuffle came from behind us, and I turned so quickly I almost threw us backwards. James wobbled to the side before collecting himself, letting out a profane stream of cursing that I only heard from him on the Quidditch field – not that I'd _ever _listened that closely – and drawing his wand and pocket watch in one smooth motion.

_It's nothing_, I told myself. _It's an animal, that's all. Nothing to be worried about._

I looked down just in time to see him snapping his watch shut. There was still nothing behind us, but there didn't need to be. In _our _world, just because you couldn't see something didn't mean there wasn't anything there, and I could feel eyes probing into my back every time I turned away. The sounds of the city grew closer; Siobhan's building was just ahead, and maybe if we got there, whoever or whatever was behind us would bugger off.

Hopefully.

"Maybe it's just a muggle," I whispered. "It doesn't have to be… anything of ours. It could just be a drunk bloke coming home from the pub or something. Right?"

James' laugh was not of the relieving sort. He turned his head just enough to give me a half-hearted smirk – his eyes were dark and focused, and I could practically feel his brain whirring away. "Maybe," he said, but I knew better. "We're just going to get you inside, and then…"

"You are _not _coming back out here."

He was silent.

I put my hand on his face and turned his gaze towards me. "You are seventeen years old, Potter. What are you going to do?"

"I don't think your doubt is helping things any," he said, pulling his face away. "A little trust would be nice – "

I gaped for a second, then: "I do trust you!"

Slowly he shook his head. His voice was finite and a little sad when he said, "No, you don't. And I suppose that's fine, but we've known each other for years now, Evans, and – "

"We cannot be doing this right now. _I trust you_," I insisted, but even I heard it this time. Doubt. I still doubted him after all this time? Even now, when I couldn't imagine going back to what things used to be, when I couldn't imagine not being able to hold his hand or smile at him whenever I felt like it, I still didn't trust him?

And, of course, he heard this in my silence. "See," he said, dropping my legs and easing me gently to the ground. "That's what I mean."

We didn't look at one another as he pulled the door to Siobhan's building open, and I snuck one more peek behind us before I stepped through, but there was still nobody there. I was beginning to think I'd imagined it. I was beginning to think it was a physical manifestation of this ugly, black thing that was coming between us now, of all of the problems that we had pushed away to be with one another, trying to make things easy and simple. I knew it would never be that way, but I had hoped…

"I'll walk you up," he said, nodding towards the stairwell.

We were halfway down the hall when the door slammed shut behind us. I jumped, making an odd-sounding squeak as I whipped around. The man who'd just walked in looked embarrassed; he chuckled nervously, bending down to retrieve his hat he'd dropped, and then straightened, saying, "Sorry about that. I forget how that door sticks sometimes. Didn't mean to startle."

"It's fine," I said, trying to calm my heart. "We just, ah, we thought someone was following us? And, um…"

James closed his eyes. Immediately I knew what he was thinking – _you don't tell someone you're being followed, Evans – _but what was I supposed to say? And it wasn't like this guy, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, very awkward on his feet, and kind of worn down by life, was following us. Judging by his briefcase and the bags under his eyes, it looked like he'd just gotten off from a long night at the office. I felt bad.

The man looked at me as if _I _was being the odd one, gave a curt nod, and then turned away. James took my hand before I could see which door he disappeared behind; we were at the top of the stairs and nearly at Siobhan's door before he spoke.

"You think Shiv's awake?"

I shrugged as I pulled my wand, saying a quiet "Alohomora" to the doorknob, and then stepping through. If he wanted to talk to Siobhan, fine, but he didn't need to act like I had given us away to a stalker or something – the guy was, like, thirty, and clearly coming home from work. Just because we were a little bit antsy over this Death Eater business didn't mean we needed to project our fears on strangers who were just walking down the street.

Yeah, I had done that, but still. It wasn't like that guy was the person following us, if there had even been someone following us at all.

"She's probably sleeping," I said as James followed me in. He stashed his wand, took another glance at his pocket watch, and then shoved his hands in his pockets, looking around the apartment.

Clearly avoiding my eyes.

I felt the old twinge of annoyance that never foretold anything good. "What?"

He shrugged. "I just don't see how you don't trust me. It's not like you don't know me."

"You act like we've been _friends _this whole time! It's not that easy," I said, truly trying to keep my voice lower than our usual shouting level. I couldn't believe we were fighting already; I couldn't believe we hadn't fought _yet. _"And I'm trying, Potter. Why doesn't that matter?"

"It does." He took his hands out of his pockets and put them out in front of him, his mouth opening to explain something, a strange look in his eyes, but at that moment a door creaked open at the end of the hall and we both turned to see a bath-robed Siobhan shuffling into the living room.

"I realize that you two haven't filled your quota for how many people you can annoy with your incessant bickering yet this summer," she began, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. "But if you would so kindly take it out of my fucking flat and let me sleep, I would be _ever _so grateful."

I straightened, deflecting that with "What are you doing out of bed?" because, yeah, sure, it was her apartment, but I was growing steadily more red-faced and irritated.

She rolled her eyes. "I came to see if there were burglars in my apartment that completely failed at their jobs and decided to shout at one another, but thanks for your concern."

"Like you'd be able to fend off a burglar in your state."

Siobhan's lips pressed into a thin line.

I shouldn't have said it – I know that. Almost unconscious she was more than capable of fending off a dozen burglars with various types of weaponry, we both knew it, even _James, _who was standing by silently, knew it, but why did it come out of my mouth? What in the world had persuaded me to provoke her?

It was fifth year all over again, but this time it wasn't "You oughtn't run your big mouth" but "You aren't able to defend yourself." To Siobhan, proud and stubborn, this was a slap in the face, and she was not afraid to hit back twice as hard. Her cold stare, more intimidating now than it had been years ago, kind of scared me.

"Look, I'm sorry," I began, deflating. I stepped forward and reached out for her, only stopping when she shook her head and stepped back, away from me. "Shiv, don't. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking – "

"I'm going back to bed," she bit out, tightening her robe. "I think I need some time for myself. Alone."

My stomach sunk. I got the message. It was no use trying to say anything further, so I walked away from James, past her, and started packing my stuff that was lying around my makeshift bedroom. Jeans thrown in the corner, a bra underneath the bed, a few hairclips on the dresser – with a flick of my wand everything arranged itself neatly in my suitcase, nice and orderly, so much unlike my quickly unraveling life.

_I don't get it_, I thought as I smoothed the comforter on the bed. Why was it that, when one piece of my life started falling into place, another piece started to crack? Why couldn't James and I find balance? What was going on between Dorcas and Siobhan that I was missing? Was it about Mel and Nella? Was it about me? Had I done something that brought them against one another?

I ignored the quiet chatter coming from the other room – _oh, so they can talk to each other? – _and looked around one last time. The room was as tidy as it had been when I had claimed it as my own, things were in their place, and the only thing not welcome here anymore was me.

Guilt led me to dig a scrap piece of paper and a pen out of my bag, and also guided my hand to scribble a quick note:

_S –_  
_I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on anymore and I hate it. I hate that you're upset, I hate that everyone is fighting, and I hate that you feel you can't talk to me. Please know that I'm here for you, always, whenever you need me, okay?  
__Love you,  
L_

She was gone when I entered the living room, but James was leaning against the door, both blocking my exit and watching me soberly. I sighed. I wasn't getting away without speaking to him, but I didn't have to do so just yet. Dropping my bag near the couch, I moved away from him, took an old photograph of Siobhan and I off of the refrigerator, put it underneath the note, and left it on the counter where she couldn't miss it.

She'd probably throw it away, but at least she would know I had apologized.

Now. What was I supposed to say to James? Sorry you don't trust my trust? Sorry you think I'm the same uptight harpy that I used to be? Sorry, but maybe this isn't going to work out after all?

I couldn't…

"I'll pick you up tomorrow," James said, running a hand through his hair. "Is eight fine?"

"Yeah, but James – "

His lips looked like they wanted to turn up, but they got halfway there and then gave up. I wanted to fix everything, but I didn't know the words that would make it better and didn't dare look at his eyes. Not when I knew how they'd break my heart.

"Tomorrow it is, then."

When I looked up, he was gone.

_Good going, Lily. Way to mess everything up in the span of ten minutes._

I picked up my bag. Part of me wished that he would be waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall, ready to sweep me into his arms and forgive me and say _it's okay, take your time _like he had when we had first started this all.

But it was empty.

The door clicked shut sadly behind me, and I felt the overwhelming silence of everything as the twisting _crack! _Of Apparition announced my departure to no one.

_**-QS –**_

"Mom. I'm fine."

"Well, you don't look fine, and I know better, Lily Alexandra, so we're going to sit down like we used to and you're going to tell me everything."

I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe as she fluffed up the pillows on her bed. Other than being worried that I came home at ten o'clock at night when I was supposed to be home a few days from now, she was concerned that my "heart was sad" (her words, not mine, though it was feeling pretty blue) and something was off.

Which, you know, it was, but I didn't feel like discussing it all with my mother.

She flipped back the comforter. "Humor me."

"I'm only doing this so you don't give me the whole, 'I birthed you and changed your nappies' speech again," I said, scooting onto the bed beside her. She pulled the covers up over our heads like we used to and settled in across from me, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"So why's my daughter so down?" she began.

Maybe it was the way she said it. Maybe it was the way it felt like, just by telling her, everything would be moderately fine again and I wouldn't feel like I didn't have anybody left in the world. But buried my face into her pillow and started, very slowly.

"It's James…"


	19. Preparation

_A/N: Nineteen! Again, thank you all SO much for your continued reviews and favorites. I know I say it a lot and I know you are all very, very tired of reading it, but I have to let y'all know how much it means to me! Thank you. I will try to get to all of your PMs and reviews very soon. And please enjoy this very late chapter! :)_

_As always,  
Mina_

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**NINETEEN: PREPARATION**

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Pancakes.

Mum's answer for everything was pancakes. Had a bad day? Pancakes. Lost your job? Pancakes. Overreacted and fought with one of your best friends and your kind-of-boyfriend in the same night and cried yourself to sleep in your mother's bed? Pancakes.

Big, fluffy, golden, slightly browned, buttered, and heavily syruped pancakes with a huge glass of milk and a mug of coffee on the side – start your day off the right way and maybe things won't go so bad. That was her philosophy, at least, and when she slid that plate across the counter, it was like she was handing me _possibility. _The smell hit my nose just right and the angle of the sun coming through the window above the sink shone like a miracle, wiping away all of my nightmares and thoughts of yesterday's disaster.

_Mmm._

My voice was kind of dead from just waking up, but the words were heavy and grateful: "Thanks, Mum."

She chuckled, waved her spatula in response, and went back to the stove. "It's the least I could do."

"Yeah" was my only response. It took me mere seconds of hurried preparation to butter and drench the stack in syrup, and two seconds more to grab my fork and dig in. Heaven. Yesterday was a bad day? Yesterday didn't _exist_ – I was here with this beautiful, gorgeous stack of pancakes and the day was new and everything was right with the world, golden and sunny and warm as it was.

She cleared his throat. "Is there anything else I can do?"

I concentrated on stabbing at my pancakes and not on the blush growing on my face or the anxiety bubbling in my stomach. "No," I mumbled, really just wanting to eat my breakfast and not think about what happened last night or what would happen later today. Just breakfast, here and now. But I smiled up at him, because I knew he was trying. "I'm okay. Breakfast helps."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm good."

Except Petunia wasn't at all appreciative of anything I held sacred, so when she whisked into the kitchen, sweeping her blonde hair up into a ponytail and bringing a cloud of eau de overpowering with her, I braced myself for the worst.

"Morning, Pet," Mum said. She gave her a peck on the cheek as Petunia walked by, and Petunia smiled, saying, "Morning, Mum."

I frowned into my mug. This was oddly cheerful of her. Maybe I would get by unscathed today. Maybe if I just got up, put my empty plate in the sink real fast, and then dashed for the back porch, I'd be okay.

_Run, Lily!_

But when I stood, the detectors in the back of her head went off and she whirled. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore her dead eyes, really tried, but when she said, "Mum told me what happened last night," I couldn't help but respond.

(Not with a plate to the face, which is what I wanted to do, but the more reasonable part of my brain halted my arm.)

"Mum did not tell you anything," I said, deadpan.

I pushed around her to the sink and rinsed the syrup off of my plate before placing it in the dishwasher. When I turned, she still had that calculating look on her face, most likely rerouting her approach to whatever it was she wanted to say to me. I was pretty sure that she had listened in to Mum's and my conversation last night. She'd always done that. When we were little and Mum took some time out just for me, when we'd hop into her bed and throw the covers over our heads and whisper about what was going on in our lives like they were the biggest secrets in the world, Petunia would always be eavesdropping behind the door, just out of sight, geared to use everything against me the next day.

What would've made last night any different? Just because this meant something to me - because _James _meant something to me - only meant that she'd rub it in my face all the more. And if he left me or something (which was impossible, or was what I was trying to tell myself was impossible), or wanted to take a break or whatever, she'd definitely figure out a way to make my life hell.

"Well, even so," she said, leaning against the counter with casual innocence. "It's no wonder you're having trouble, Lily. You ought to find a man like Vernon. Responsible, hard-working, _normal._"

My snort was almost inaudible.

I picked up my mug before I could toss it at my infuriating sister and took a calming sip. She didn't know anything. She _didn't. _She didn't know me and she certainly didn't know James, and even though, yeah, we were having a little bit of trouble, that was natural. Mum had said as much: "You're going to go through some tough times, Lily. Everybody does. Heaven knows your father and I still fight. But if you really fancy him, you can't give up."

And if Vernon was _normal… _

"Okay, Petunia," I conceded, leaving her with her delusions for the familiar warmth of the sunny back porch. Except Petunia wasn't at all cognizant of when somebody wanted to get away from her, so she followed me out and leaned against the Adirondack chair I had flopped into.

I shielded my heart and my eyes, squinting up at her. "What?"

Her gaze was fixed on Mum's garden. "Why'd you decide to date him?"

…_what?_

"Uh. Pardon?"

Her voice didn't change; her eyes didn't stray. "Why'd you decide to date him?"

I looked out at the garden, too. The honesty of her question threw me off – she was asking what it was that had convinced me to see James? Truly? There was always the chance that she was being a snot, but then again, there were times – few and far between – when she was capable of disarming me like this. It was usually when she was actually being a sister instead of treating me like an adopted creature that clearly didn't belong, usually when I wasn't expecting anything from her at all. And then… bang. She'd deliver a stunner.

But she wasn't looking at me, wasn't moving, so I had to assume that she was being serious.

Which also meant that I had to find an answer.

_Why did I decide to date him? _Well…

"I don't know," I answered, finding it as quickly as I'd rethought the question. I watched her brows draw together. I shook my head, cutting off whatever thoughts she was having. "He's always been there, and he's… changed. A lot. He used to be a big prat – and I guess he still is a prat, sometimes? There's just something different about him now. I don't know, Petunia, we're trying it out, I think; it's not like…"

_It's not like I know him well._

It was like my entire body froze, starting from my brain and traveling, with a snap, to my toes.

_Oh, my God. Is that what this is? Is that what's coming between us?  
_

Panic. I think it was panic, tingling through my limbs. It rose in waves, threatening to pull me under – _it's not like I know him well. _Sure, you know a person for six years, but that doesn't mean you _know _him. Not enough to date him, at least, right? I mean, we'd been at one another's throats for a vast majority of that time, and it's not like I knew anything about him, really, besides what I gleaned of his wonderful personality during school. Taunting my friends? Picking on others? Neglecting schoolwork for stupid pranks?

_It's not like I know him well._

And I guess he didn't know me that well, either. It was clear we were still working on the trust thing, but you think he'd at least give me _some _amount of it, right? Even though I couldn't grant him any?

Why was this so complicated?

Petunia chewed at her lip. I could see her mental process and the cogs in her brain whirring, tinkering with the idea of talking with me or going back inside. I almost grabbed her wrist and begged her to stay. Almost.

Panic makes you do crazy things.

She was still leaning against my chair, though, so I spoke up. "You, uh. How long have you known the woo – _Ver_non? Were you friends for long or, um, did you just start dating right off?"

She hadn't looked at me yet. "I don't – why are you asking me this?"

"Because I need advice," I said. Then, laying it on thick: "And because you and Vernon are obviously in a very successful, rewarding relationship. Why wouldn't I ask you?"

With a sigh, then a nod, because, yes, obviously she was in a _very _successful relationship, she slipped into the chair beside me. Better yet, she crossed her legs and looked to be settling in. Progress!

"We met at one of Marjorie's teas a while ago," she said. "It's been about three years now. He was very impressive, even then. When did you and…"

"James."

"Uh, yes. James. When did you meet?"

I avoided her gaze. "Six years ago."

"_Six? _Good heavens, Lily," she laughed – _laughed! _My sister was laughing with me! – and shook her head. "You sure move slow. What took you so long?"

I chuckled too. "Because he's an arse. If you knew him…"

"Then, again: why are you dating him? It doesn't make sense for you to be with someone you don't like," she said.

Sighing, I took a long sip of my coffee. "I do like him, it's just – it's complicated. In six years, you're supposed to know somebody, right? But we spent most of that time yelling and hurting one another. We weren't even friends, at least until last year, but it was kind of… weird. I knew he liked me, he knew I didn't want to have anything to do with fancying him, and up until the end of the year… it just took me a long, long time to realize that being a prat wasn't _all _he could be."

"So what does that mean?" she said after a long pause.

"It means," I said, but then stopped. It means what? That we just have more to work on? That we shouldn't be together at all? That it was hopeless? "I don't know what it means."

She pushed herself to her feet and grabbed for my empty coffee mug. There was a moment where we looked at one another in understanding – a nice moment, I'll admit – before she nodded. "Let me know."

When the glass door slid shut behind her, I let myself smile. Despite it all, when I was in need, Petunia pulled through. It was a good thing to know.

_**- QS -**_

"You _what?_"

"I don't think I want to go anymore." I hopped onto the counter and twisted the telephone cord around my finger. Dorcas was quiet on the other end. At five o'clock, she was probably getting ready right now, curling her hair, setting aside her dress…

"I don't want to force you," she began. "Please don't make me beg."

"But _Dory – _"

"Please don't make me go alone, Lily. Please? You promised that you would go, and unless something drastic happened between then and now, I don't think it's fair for you to – "

"But something did happen!"

She sighed. "You're not being dramatic, are you?"

"No!" How could she even think such a thing? Me, dramatic? "No, listen. James and I took a walk last night and I think someone was following us, I don't know, but – "

"Wait, someone was following you? What – "

"It turned out to be this old guy, it was nothing, we're fine. But James and I got in a row because he thinks I still don't trust him and then I got in a row with Siobhan because I don't know when to shut my mouth, and, really, do I have to go to this thing? You know how awkward it's going to be, don't you? There's going to be all this drama in the air and – "

"Lily, stop."

I stopped.

"Breathe. Are you breathing?" When I blew a gust of air into the receiver, she continued. "Okay. Look. We've lived with you for six years. We know that your brain isn't connected to your mouth sometimes. We know this about you, alright? It'll be fine. James would forgive you for murder."

"I don't think that's – "

I could picture her holding up her hands in that _listen to me, damn it! _gesture that would never come out of her mouth. "Lily…"

"What?" I whined. "What? What do you want from me, Dorcas?"

"Please?"

Dirty cheat, she was, using that tone against me. She knew it would work. I would forgive _her _for murder with just that little pleading "Please?"

"His mum is expecting you there! You can't just flake off the gala – what will Mrs. Potter think of you? You want to make a good impression, right? They already bought you that dress, I'm sure they're expecting you to wear it. And what about – "

"Alright, alright!" I relented. Before hanging up the telephone, I grumbled, "I'll see you there."

_**- QS -**_

"Mum – "

"Get in the shower, Lily."

"But I don't – "

"Shower. Now."

_**- QS -**_

"Dorcas! Dorcas, don't hang up – "

"Will you stop calling me? Have you even got clothes on? It's almost seven. Go get ready and don't call me again."

_**- QS -**_

"This is ridiculous."

Mum held my gaze in the mirror. I could see the sheen in her eyes. It wasn't that much of a difference, really – she didn't have to get emotional. All we did was pull my hair up, swipe some simple makeup onto my face that made my eyes pop, and put the dress on. It was even more gorgeous when it wasn't in the box, if I had to say. The waist was perfectly fitted and made me seem thinner and taller than I was, the skirt just barely brushed the floor, the front and back hems were both low but neither were too revealing; the color was perfect, and with the gold embroidery, I felt more like a walking Gryffindor poster child than ever.

If _that _didn't make the Potters like me, I wasn't sure what would.

"Stop biting your nails, we just painted them," she chided, pulling my fingers away from my mouth. "And it's not ridiculous. Oh, Lily."

"You are not going to cry. No crying," I said. I turned away from the mirror and started strapping myself into my gold heels. "Why are you getting weepy about this? You've seen me in a dress before. In fact, you've made me wear dresses before, and you've never gotten teary once."

She placed her hand on her chest like she was losing control of her breath. "Yes, but you're an adult now. You look so grown, Lily. I'm just…"

"Nuh-uh. No crying."

Shoes, dress, earrings, hair, wand tucked into a complicated area – everything was in place. All that was left was my date. If he was still coming, that is. After yesterday, after the way that he just left without saying goodbye, without looking in my eyes, it just – I wasn't sure he would come. And I knew that if he didn't, it would be perfectly my fault.

Mum, seeing this written all over my face, grabbed my shoulders. "He'll be here."

"He won't. You don't know James – "

"_You _don't know James," she said. She waited while I gaped, obviously with nothing to say, and then continued with a short nod. "He will be here. Okay? And when he does, you will tell him how nice he looks, and he will do the same, and you both will – " she flapped her hands around, searching for words " – do whatever it is you do when you disappear."

"Apparate," I said.

She nodded again. "Apparate. Now let's get you downstairs."

I picked up the skirt of my dress and wobbled down the hall, hesitating before stopping in front of Petunia's doorway. She looked up from her magazine, took a long look at me, and then smiled. "You look lovely."

And I almost teared up right there, just after I had told Mum not to. I felt her words stick in the back of my brain, where I knew I'd remember them. I hoped we wouldn't lose this progress soon. "Thanks, 'Tuney."

Mum bustled into the room. "Look at my girls! Pet, doesn't Lily look wonderful? I thought we'd do this hair for your bridesmaids, curled and swept up like this, what do you think? It'd be – "

The doorbell rang.

My heart did a somersault.

I wonder if he'd… I wonder what he'd say. If he'd think the gown looked as he thought it would, if he'd be glad he asked me. I wonder if he'd get that same look in his eyes as he used to when he thought I wasn't looking – when I'd come into the common room in the morning in rumpled pajamas with no makeup and my hair mussed, and he'd look up and just… that look in his eyes would be so bare that it made me feel vulnerable. Wanted. And he would just smirk a bit, say "Morning, Evans," and then go on with whatever he was doing that morning.

And I'd be stuck with this _feeling _all day, like he'd uncovered me with that glance, like I wanted him to say something, anything, about what he'd been thinking.

My stomach was a tangle of nerves as I walked, dazed, down the hall. Mum had answered the door, and I could hear his voice at the foot of the stairs, something about warnings and "bring my girl home safe" and he was a trusting man, but only if the trust was deserved, young man.

I realized, as I gripped the banister and stepped carefully down the steps, that I had never seen James in anything formal before. In school uniform, in Quidditch gear, in pajamas, in near nothing (long story), in muggle clothes, yes, but nothing that involved pressed trousers and shiny shoes. Maybe his hair would even be – but no. There was no hope for that. His hair was a mess, and I don't think he would be himself if his hair wasn't in a constant state of disarray. I nearly tripped over the last step in my nervousness and excitement to see him.

But when I reached the landing and turned, my heart sunk, dropped right into the deep well of disappointment that had become my stomach. James hadn't come. I'd finally pushed him too far.

"Lily," Remus greeted, stepping over to grasp my hands and kiss me on the cheek. I didn't kiss him back, too stunned and surprised to react at him being here and not James; he saw this as he pulled away. "Ah, James couldn't make it. Something came up, he wouldn't tell me – "

_Which I highly doubt, but go on, Remus, lie to me some more, why don't you?_

" – but I was sent to come escort you. I hope you don't mind," he finished lamely, his hand on my shoulder. I think he was trying for comforting. I distracted myself with his dressing robes, which looked very new. I figured James must've leant him something. Kind-hearted James, outfitting his friends and kind-of-girlfriend so that they could bring themselves to his mother's gala. Kind-hearted James, who couldn't even show up when he had promised me.

"It was important, Lily," Remus whispered, aware of my mother looking on curiously from behind us. "You know he'd be here if he could. He told me to tell you he was sorry and that he'd – and I'm summarizing here to spare you the details – make it up to you."

"I know, but – "

I took a deep breath, willing the tears away. They'd ruin my makeup, for one, and I didn't – he – this wasn't important. It wasn't a big deal. I had to take the bad with the good: Remus was here. Remus, who I hadn't seen since school ended. It was a good thing. _Breathe._

"Yeah," I said, then nodded, giving him a small smile. "Yeah, you're right. And you – you look great, Remus. Very dapper."

He blushed. "As do you. Now, are you going to explain to your Mum that I'm not really your date? I think she's trying to bore a hole into my back with her eyes; it's quite disturbing."

_**- QS -**_

After our goodbyes – and after Mum was done fussing with my dress and Remus's tie – we stepped into the backyard where it was less likely for anybody to see us Apparate. Luckily the Blanchetts didn't seem to be home. If Mrs. Blanchett had happened to walk outside and see us in our state of dress, she'd be worse than Mum. _Oh, Lillian! Look at your hair, dear! Why, I haven't seen it that orderly in a while! And your dress! Heavens me, if my daughter were to see this, she'd have a fit – she's a seamstress, you know, and quite the talented one. And you know I'm not one to harp on about my childrens' talents, but she is very adept with that sewing machine. _

And on, and on, and on…

"So are you going to tell me the real reason you're here," I said to Remus as I took his arm. We were doing side-along Apparition, since I didn't know the designated areas at the Potter home and he'd already been there tonight. "Or are you going to keep pretending you don't know anything?"

"Lily – "

"I know better, Remus."

He nodded, allowing this, and pulled his wand. "Sorry, Lily. I've been sworn to secrecy. You'll have to, uh, talk to James when we get there."

I pouted. "You're no fun."


	20. Affair

_A/N: HEY, IS THAT MINA, UPDATING BEFORE THREE WEEKS HAVE PASSED?_

_Yes. Yes, it is._

_As always,  
Mina ;)_

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**TWENTY: AFFAIR**

* * *

Remember the last time James had turned me down? That single event that had opened the whole can of worms that was our strange, blossoming relationship? I think he was figuring out a system: turn Lily away, wait until she drives herself to desperation, and then be ready when she runs, flailing and frantic, back.

Bloody genius. Why? Because it was _working. _

I didn't know if that was his plan - whether or not he realized that this was what had basically happened when we started this whole mess was up in the air - but I'll be damned if my heart didn't fall to pieces when Remus came to pick me up instead. It was cruel, if he _was _doing this on purpose, but it did make me realize that I had to give in order to take.

Pretty unfortunate that I had to be hurt in order to learn anything, but hey, such is life.

Once Remus yanked us through space (James and I got in an argument about this once, actually, about where exactly you went during Apparation, when between one point and the other; James said it was something like time, I said it was space; the whole thing ended up with us not speaking to one another for a week), I felt us land on the other side on something that felt like grass.

Coming out of Apparition always made me queasy. Straightening and making sure everything was in place, we turned.

The Apparition point turned out to be at the front gate, right on the lawn, which gave us a pretty good view of the front façade of the mansion - which I'm sure was the point.

And it was very well received. It looked like the place had literally exploded with light.

It looked like something out of a movie. The house-manor-mansion reminded me of one of those period pieces where the men wore cravats and the women were expected to know how to sew and cook and draw and sing (which was unfortunate, since I knew how to do, oh, none of those). Even so, it was gorgeous. Every window was lit, dim lights hung in trees along the borders of their property, and there were charmed orbs floating around the path to the entranceway.

Impressive.

If I hadn't been so entranced by the glow and the beautiful summer night, the fact that my kind-of-boyfriend lived in a bloody _mansion _probably would've hit home.

"They - they really went all out on this, didn't they," I murmured to Remus, clutching his arm as a woman in a tight black dress popped into existence and power-walked her way past us. It was just - I mean - holy hell. The building was two stories tall, and _every single window _was lit. I couldn't get over it.

Mum would have a heart attack at the thought of that utilities bill.

"I hope you didn't expect less grandeur," Remus said with a surprisingly impressive smirk. It worried me; clearly he was spending too much time with those guys. "Come on, Mrs. Potter demanded me to bring you straight to her once we arrived."

He led me down the path, nodding at two house elves that were standing nearby. Their property, from what I could tell, was enormous. Surrounded on all sides by tall, thick trees, it was as if the home had been sat down right in the middle of the forest. I could picture it here, in the winter, with everything blanketed by a fresh snowfall, the sky gray and serene, the grounds a perfect expanse of white…

A quiet smile touched my lips. Maybe I'd get to see that one day. Maybe this would all go so well that his mother would invite me back for Christmas and I would refuse, at first, but James would convince me otherwise because of course we should be spending Christmas together; we were doing just wonderfully.

The voice inside my head groaned. _James, what's going on?_

"You're not going to tell me where he is, are you," I tried again, shaking Remus' arm.

He chuckled. "Nope. I am your date for now."

"This really isn't fair. When have I ever kept secrets from you? Huh, Remus?" I put my hand on my chest and pretended to wipe away a tear with the other. "And here you are keeping all these secrets from me."

He tripped.

Luckily he didn't go very far - it was just a quick stumble, probably over one of the bricks we were walking on. Even in flat shoes they had to be treacherous, and I was wobbling down them in heels.

_Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart! Where women fear not walkways that threaten to fell them!_

I giggled to myself.

"Uh, sorry about that," Remus said, regaining my arm. He cleared his throat. "Well, um… When we get up here, they're going to check your wand and make sure you don't have anything on you. They did it to me when I first got here, too; it's not a big deal. Formalities."

_I _nearly tripped, not because of his obvious subject change, but because of what I was wearing. They wanted to check that I didn't have anything on me?

I looked down at the gown that was nearly stuck to my skin - it was snug from my hips up - and back at Remus.

"Are they going to _frisk _me?"

He chuckled, wordlessly letting my arm go as we finally reached the tall entryway.

This did not give me any hope on the frisking issue.

We reached the entranceway in silence. On either side of the door there were two men dressed in deep robes of navy blue who did not smile or nod a greeting as we reached them. I suppose they were Aurorors, though I'd never seen an Auror in person before, but who else would they be? The bald one on the right, closest to me, wordlessly held out his hand. If I hadn't already been prompted, I probably would've given him my hand to shake, probably would've made a fool of myself before even stepping foot in the door.

Which would've shouted to the world, _Look here, it's a muggle-born!_

As it was, I finagled my wand out of a little slit at my hip and placed it into his palm. The man performed some kind of analysis on it with his own wand, did a weird kind of movement in front of me which I guess "checked" me for any dangerous or malignant spells or what have you, wrote something on a piece of paper, and then handed my wand back to me.

"Have a good night," he grumbled.

I nodded, looking at him out of the corner of my eye as I regained Remus' arm, and walked away as quickly as my heels would allow. No awkward frisking! Victory!

"Why is that a formality? They really don't think anything is going to happen tonight, do they?" I whispered to Remus. We followed a couple in front of us through the foyer. "Is that likely?"

"It's not _un_likely," he whispered back, slowing as he allowed me to look around.

The front entranceway opened up into the foyer with a magnificent, glittering chandelier, a grand staircase, and white marble floors. The walls were a light gold color, almost white, and as we went down a hallway and followed the sounds of music and people talking, I wondered where the gala would be taking place, since I had never asked.

It turned out to be a ballroom right off the hallway.

James had a ballroom _in his house. _

It was very much like the foyer, save several more chandeliers and, um, quite a lot more people. With high ceilings and large windows against the far wall, it seemed as if it were bigger than it really was; there were tables littered around the room with a long, stretching buffet in the corner; and a stage was set up as well, where a small quartet was playing soft classical music. People were mingling with one another, dancing, eating, laughing; all around the room were faces I didn't recognize, but faces that were warm and welcome.

And there was more light. Light everywhere. More floating orbs, floating candles, small flames in sconces on the walls. It wasn't an obnoxious light, though - it was the kind of light I wanted in a future home. Kind of a dim light. I know that's contradictory, but it was the kind of light that you find on a spring day when the sun sits at just the right angle in the sky and makes you think that the world really is a beautiful place after all. It was the kind of pleasant light that you want to sink into, the kind that makes you feel at peace, very safe and at home.

I felt myself growing more calm. The anxiety that James wasn't happy with me was still there, but it was dulled and nearly replaced with something familiar to faith. He'd find me here eventually.

But still, the awe was running strong.

"You get that feeling?" Remus was gazing at me with that look in his eyes. Small and insignificant. He and I, though not the same, were similar in that we didn't come from wealth or blood like this.

Nothing like this.

I nodded. "Yeah. It's just… wow."

"My first reaction, too," he said, tugging at his collar. "It's strange being here; I feel sorely out of place. James says you get used to it, but I don't know…"

I did a quick, hopefully unnoticed scan of the room, but he was nowhere to be seen.

And I tried not to be so disappointed, because it was all so beautiful and _wow_, but - just - it would've been perfect had James been there. Remus was a wonderful friend and I appreciated him being there for me and not leaving me to do this by myself, but… I was selfish. Surprise!

I missed James. _Congratulations, Universe. You win._

"He'll be around somewhere," Remus said, noticeably _not _doing any looking-around.

I realize he had been here already today and had seen all of the well-dressed people and the tablecloths that probably cost more than my house, but he could've at least pretended like he didn't know what was going on.

"Yes, well." I'd spare him, just this once. "Let's go find Mrs. Potter then."

Weaving through groups of guests, I had almost given up and was close - _this close! _- to standing up on a chair and looking around for her that way.

Thankfully Dorcas saved me from committing this faux pas, as she so often did. I would be the epitome of a societal dumbass if not for her.

"Look at you!" she said as she emerged from behind a rather large man dressed in a rather ugly shade of mustard. Grinning, she leaned down to kiss my cheek. "All dressed and in one piece! You look stunning."

"Look at _you!_" I said. I made her turn, her blue dressing gown and long, curled hair catching the air, and I could see her fitting in here, mingling with the best of them with her perfect self.

I wasn't jealous.

Really.

"Where's James?" she asked us, pecking Remus on the cheek as well. "He hasn't shown yet?"

A terrible moment of silence passed between the three of us as several things were realized. I realized that there was something funny going on they that all knew and I didn't, Dorcas realized that I hadn't been filled in yet, and Remus realized that he was probably going to get in some amount of trouble by one or more of his friends on this night.

"Has he gone somewhere?" I asked them both.

They both turned uneasy.

"I can't believe you two! Keeping secrets from me when you _know _I worry - "

"Shiv's not here either. I haven't seen her anywhere - "

"Lily, dear! I'm so glad that you're here."

I turned, pasting on a smile that I hoped would impress. "Mrs. Potter, it's lovely to see you again."

She laughed. "Please, dear. Call me Elaine."

It must be mentioned again how beautiful Elaine Potter was. I knew that she was older than my parents - who weren't exactly _old, _per se, but when wizarding folk live much longer than muggles do, I guess they seemed so - but the years were definitely being kind to her. Her gown was a deep purple and very elegant, something I'd imagine a queen would wear, but Mrs. Potter wore it with a simple humility that I admired.

She knew she was beautiful, she just wasn't flaunting it. It made me stand up a little straighter.

And beside her had to be Mr. Potter. He was _tall. _Tall, broad-shouldered, and with eyes that contained so much mischief that I worried about drinking anything from the punch bowl. Where James looked exactly like his mother, it was his father, I assumed, that leant him that eternal wild spirit.

After Mrs. Potter gave me a gentle hug, Mr. Potter reached for my hand. "Call me Harold. It's wonderful to finally meet the girl of my son's dreams. You're welcome here, Miss Lily, any time you want."

I blushed for both James and myself.

"Thank you," I managed to murmur, repressing the urge to drop into a curtsy.

"You haven't seen my son around, have you?" Elaine asked, holding Harold's arm in order to look around the room. "That miscreant; he's going to give me a fit one of these days if he doesn't keep still for a moment."

"I haven't," I said. "Not all night, as a matter of fact."

Harold frowned down at me. "He didn't escort you here?"

_You've got to be kidding me._

"No," I said. I turned to Remus and Dorcas, who were looking anywhere but at me, and hissed, "You're lying to his _mother_?"

Dorcas looked very, very, appropriately guilty. "We had to!"

"Why don't you three enjoy yourselves, then," Elaine said, keeping up her hostess smile. "Find me again when James comes 'round, will you?"

I nodded. When she and Harold stepped away, I turned on my horrible excuses for friends.

"There is a very special place in Hell reserved for the both of you," I whispered fiercely, both exasperated and wrongly amused at the humored smiles that twitched at their lips. "I'm serious. If you don't tell me what's going on, I swear I am going to tell her - "

"Lily, don't - "

Remus waved his arms in a _shush_ing manner. He grabbed my hands, left Dorcas with an eye-roll that I guess communicated their long, eternal suffering of dealing with my temper, and whisked me onto the dance floor. It was a lively waltz, and we stumbled around wordlessly for a long moment while we tried to find our rhythm.

"Will you please be patient, Lily?" he said after apologizing for stepping on my foot. "You know James, and you know he's not going to… He'll be here, alright? He promised you that."

I couldn't look at him. Over his shoulder, as we turned, I saw Dorcas weaving her way through the crowd to get to an empty table. By the buffet, a woman who looked suspiciously like Professor McGonagall - was McGonagall here? Really? - was talking to a gesturing short-statured woman with long black hair. Black hair like James'…

"He promises a lot of things," I grumbled to Remus.

Selfish and impatient. I know. But I _missed _him, you see? And because he knew the system - at least, I think he did - he knew what it was he was doing to me. Yeah, it was working; the infallible Lily Evans had finally fallen for his charms. You may say what you like, but if you were in my position…

Well, I'm sure you'd want to see him just as badly.

Remus shook me again, very lightly, and brought my eyes back to him. His voice, though soft, was stern. "Hey. He will be here, alright? He had to take care of something."

"Take care of what?" I wheedled, sighing as the tempo of the song finally slowed. "What does he have to do that's more important than…"

And here came my selfishness again. I wanted to say _me. What does he have to do that's more important than me_, but God, was that selfish. I didn't know what was going on, but if James had abandoned me for it, maybe it was because it _was _more important than me. Which shouldn't give me a complex, because there are a lot of things in life that are more important than I am - like family, like somebody in trouble, like Voldemort.

"Is someone hurt?" I asked.

Remus' hand tightened ever so slightly on my waist. We weren't following the beat anymore. I looked up.

"I hope not," he said.

But the doubt was placed.

"Remus."

"Lily, please - "

"_Remus!_"

"I - I can't. It's not - "

This time when Dorcas caught my eye over Remus' shoulder, it was because all six feet of her was hopping up and down, trying to get my attention. I hoped nobody had noticed her. Talk about embarrassing.

_Oven wear! _she mouthed to me, pointing subtly to our right.

_Oven wear? _I mouthed back, frowning my confusion.

Remus turned his head around, too, wondering, I knew, who was trying to communicate to me from across the room when the only option was obvious.

Dorcas rolled her eyes, shook her head no, and then pointed more vigorously. _Over THERE!_

I turned to look over there.

And there he was.

I don't know how I saw him so easily through the mass of people between the dance floor and the entrance to the ballroom, but it was like tunnel vision. There was no choir of angels or a slow-motion entrance, but my stomach did knot itself up quite a bit in anticipation and excitement and relief and anger and curiosity, though, and I think I hiccupped because his appearance was so sudden, and, yeah, my feet froze to the floor, causing Remus to bump into me awkwardly, but I was a picture of composure.

All those times that he has stared at me wordlessly suddenly made sense. I got it. It was clear.

Because _God_ was he handsome.

He was in black from head to toe save for a white pressed shirt and burgundy tie that matched my dress. I'd never seen him in something so tidy; even in school, his white shirts were always wrinkled and unbuckled, but when he wore it under those black dress robes?

_Guh._

His hair, as I had expected, was crazy and sprouted in all directions with no order. It looked like he hadn't even tried to tame it. And that smile!

I was actually very happy to see him and that grin, despite everything, until I saw that his hand was connected to another hand, and that hand was connected to a dainty, bangled wrist, and that wrist was connected to a woman's arm, which was, of course, connected to a woman.

Remus made some kind of sound between a grunt and a whine. "Oh, Prongs…"

But it was fine. It was fine. She was just a beautiful blonde girl in a beautiful orange dress who was holding my kind-of-boyfriend's stupid hand. And I knew that he and I looked more perfect together than they did, although she was the beautiful kind of beautiful, while I was just that modest kind of pretty if you squinted your eyes and turned your head to a certain angle. And I also knew that, when he turned away from her and sneezed very loudly, her laugh wasn't the most adorable thing ever.

I trusted James.

I _did. _

"It's fine," I told Remus. I smiled at him and none-too-gently pushed him into another dance. It was a quick one again, and while we busied ourselves with pretending to focus on our footwork and the tempo of the strings and bass, I knew we were both focused solely on the other side of the room and not on each other.

Remus shook his head. "That was _not _what he was doing, I swear - "

"It's fine, Remus! It's fine," I said, gripping his shoulder as we spun. "I'm working on trust, so I trust him. It's probably not how it looks, I know that - "

"That's good, because it's not - "

A hand grabbed my arm. "Lily!"

Remus and I stopped spinning. It was like throwing a wrench into turning cogs - the whole machine jerked to a stop, leaving everything attached whirling and dizzy. As I stared up at James, Remus stole away, conspicuously giving us our space and escaping a telling-to. It was a smart move.

"Hey, you," James said, his hand warm on my back.

It was worse up close. He even smelled wonderful. I wanted to jump his bones. I had never wanted to jump Potter's bones before, so the urge felt something like nausea.

"Hi," I said.

Was I supposed to be angry with him for not coming for me? Upset that he was flirting - _okay, Lily, that is an absurd overreaction _- with that woman in orange? Happy that he was finally here? Irritated that he was keeping secrets from me when he was so disappointed in me yesterday for not trusting him?

"We should probably move out of the way," he said, pulling me along, out of the way of the dancers. "And I should probably explain - "

"No, it's fine, she's just a girl; I trust you, I do, James - "

His eyebrows did a funny little dance on his forehead, moving between amusement, confusion, and frustration easily. I don't know which one he had settled on, but when he asked, "What girl?" I think it might've been deception.

"It's nothing. I'm just glad you're here," I said, brushing it off. _Jealousy is not becoming, Lily. _"Where've you been?"

_Neither is nagging._

"Uh, about that - " he said, running a hand through his hair.

"Remus said someone might be hurt. Please don't lie to me."

His lips tightened and his gaze left me, presumably looking around for his traitorous friend. "Remus told you that?"

I sighed. "No. He wouldn't tell me anything, actually - he was very invested in protecting his honor and his stupid, brash friends, and who am I to break a thick skull like that? I'm only - "

"You're only my girlfriend, and don't insist otherwise," James murmured, pressing a kiss against my forehead. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Melting. I understood, then, what it felt like when people say they 'melt' into someone's arms. We were in the middle of everyone, just on the corner of the dance floor, just beside the buffet and right beside what looked like a large group of dignitaries in very expensive attire. Before, when I cared, I probably would've been embarrassed to be seen as one of those teenagers that can't keep their hands off of each other, but I think that, in the time I had known James like this, I had thrown that away.

I rested my head on his chest and wove my arms around his skinny waist. "I'm sorry for… I'm sorry for being a duffer."

"You? A duffer?" he said, laughing. Here is where a nice, kind boyfriend would've lied. James, however, said, "Only most of the time."

We stood like that for a prolonged moment. It was nice. There was the soft string music in the background, the dim humming of surrounding conversation, and us. _This _was the us that I loved - when we were quiet and in-tune with one another, no arguing, no talking. Because, despite our need to fight, we also knew one another through our silences.

It was then, only because I was hyperaware and we were pressed very closely together, that I noticed the rapid pace of his heartbeat and the antsy tapping of his fingers against the small of my back.

Oh, and the surging heat right next to my temple.

"What is that?" I asked, pulling away cautiously.

He looked down at his chest as if he didn't feel it there. "What is what?"

"James."

"I - " And then I saw an outline of a rectangular object nearly steaming through his robes. "Ahh, shit. Uh, come on. Grab my hand. And your dress; don't want to be - God, shit! Hurry - "

I didn't ask. It was safer not to ask. Instead, I took his hand and followed him as we dashed for the door to the hall, roughly shoving past the young woman in black that had sped into the house when Remus and I had just arrived. James kept tugging me onward, but I turned and tried to apologize, getting out a hurried, "Oh my gosh, I'm so sor - " before we turned a corner and her scowling face disappeared.

"Shit, shit, shit," James muttered, dropping my hand.

We were still walking fast, moving farther down the hallway where it was less _lightlightlight _and more homey. I was fine with following him wherever he was taking me until he started up a small flight of stairs. My feet would not handle the trek.

I stopped. "James, what the hell is going on?"

He turned with his hands down the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. Wincing, he pulled out a silver mirror, glared at it, and marched back down the stairs. There was a door to our left; he ushered me in and locked it behind him.

"I am going to kill him," he mumbled, tossing the mirror onto a desk. "Look at my robes!"

I was much more interested in the room than his premeditated murder plans or his state of undress - which was a much, much more dangerous thing to be interested in, especially when locked in a room with him - but I turned away from the tall bookshelves of the wood-paneled study and came closer.

Right where the mirror had been, his white, pressed shirt had been melted clean through. The cloth of his black robes was slightly scorched, but overall it'd take just a quick spell to repair. Nothing serious.

Unless he burned _himself, _which was territory I was not going to let myself explore.

I stepped back. "Did you, um." Blushing, I motioned to the general area on his chest. "It's not… You're fine, right?"

He seemed to get it. He pulled the burned pieces of his robes together and looked properly embarrassed, even though that mischief of his father's was still lingering deep in his eyes where he thought he was hiding it well. "I'm okay. Most of it got my shirt."

"That's… good. Um, what was that about?"

"Uh, speaking of. I should answer that," he grumbled, picking the mirror back up. I thought he meant my question, but James doesn't ever answer direct questions, does he, because he tapped the bloody mirror, said "Sirius," and waited.

I should've known. I hadn't seen him or heard of him all night. Like he wasn't going to be here!

I should've _known._

While I stood seething, not sure who, exactly, I was angry at, James held a conversation with the mirror. I remembered those stupid things - they had gotten me in trouble once, and while James and I had served detention in one part of the castle, Sirius, who'd gotten in worse punishment, was in another. Utterly bored and wondering about James' sanity on the other side of the room - I thought he had been talking to himself - I had snuck over to see what it was.

Why I only remembered that _after _he started talking to the damn thing was beyond me.

"…everything alright?" I heard James ask as I tuned back in.

"Yeah. Ran into trouble, but I handled it. Nobody's here." Sirius' voice was muffled, but I could hear it from where I was. I crossed my arms and leaned against the desk, glaring at the thing. "Lily there?"

"Yes. She's here."

"She cross?"

James slowly looked up at me. "I'd say that's a safe description, yes."

"…she's _right there?_ Ah, hell, James, you prat - "

"I'm right here," I said merrily, waving, even though he couldn't see me. "Hello, Sirius."

"Heeey, Lily. Uh, sorry? I'll, uh. I'll be there shortly, James. Where are you?"

"Dad's study," James answered, and tapped the mirror again. When he sat it down on the desk, I saw my red face in the reflection and told myself not to get angry, not to overreact, and not to be the crazy girlfriend. I wasn't the crazy girlfriend. Earlier, when he was with that girl - which I was not going to mention, because it would be a crazy girlfriend thing to do - I did not fly off the handle like I wanted to. I could be in control here, too.

"Explain," I said to James. It was calm. I was proud. For a bonus, I added, "Please."

He sighed. A hand ran through his hair. He paced for a moment, to the door and to the desk, to the door, to the desk, and then held his hands out to the side. He had that look in his eye.

"I trust you," I said, holding up a hand to interrupt him. "All I want is the truth."

He raised an eyebrow, opened his mouth, then stopped. "Right," he said. "Because we are trusting now, right?"

"Right."

"Okay. See, Padfoot… you know about his family," he began, sitting down in one of the armchairs in front of a small fireplace. I followed, making sure I smoothed the skirt of my dress before I sat, and ignored his amused smirk as he watched this. I waved for him to continue.

"And he just - sometimes he can't take it anymore. Sometimes _I _can't take it any more, and they're not even my family. I mean, you saw him a few weeks ago, all pissed and bruised to hell - _that _is what he lives with. So, last night, after rowing with those people again, he just… left."

"Where'd he go?"

"Here," James said, as if saying _where else would he go? _"Tonight he went back to get some of his stuff - you know, his broom, important books, pictures, letters, money. We figured it'd be best for him to go now, because _they're _having a shindig, too, and we figured nobody would be there, but… I had to make sure he got there alright. Luckily nobody was home."

_Poor Sirius_, I thought, watching through James' eyes the way they both felt. Sirius was so - he was so - he was Sirius. Yeah, he was infuriating and stupid and a big bloody mess at times, but he was also so very loyal and kind-hearted when he wanted to be, and he cared so deeply for those he loved that sometimes it was insane. It hurt me to think that his family was wearing that away, and though he had to leave his only family to escape that, I was glad that he did it.

I couldn't be mad at James for that.

"They didn't hurt him, did they? He'll get back here safe, right?"

He took out his pocket watch. "Yeah," James said. "He'll be alright. And look at that, only half past nine."

I sighed. _Look at that._

We were quiet. I could feel his eyes on me, studying and intense. It reminded me so much of our nights in Gryffindor, sitting beside the hearth, working on various pieces of schoolwork and, every few minutes or so, striking up a four- or five-sentence conversation. They were never all that important, and half the time it seemed like he was saying things just to be saying them ("You think Dumbledore wears purple skivvies, too?"), but in between, in our pauses, I felt something else there. It was conversation all on its own, told simply through gestures and movements.

It was another way we worked, I supposed. On the surface was our speech - fighting, arguing, debating, talking, whispering - and then there was another level, one that I had tried to ignore and deny, deny, deny for so long, that ran deeper. It was something we had been unconsciously working on for six years.

I _did _know him. It was the surface things that I didn't know, things that didn't really matter in the long run; what mattered was that I knew how he thought, how he functioned, what it meant when he squinted his eyes in such a way or what he was saying when he gave a long, deep sigh. I could tell what he was thinking when he stared at me like that, and it still brought a blush to my face every time.

We stood at the same time.

"Come here," he said, opening his arms.

"You're a prat," I mumbled into his chest. "I hope you know."

He chuckled and twined his arms around me. This time his heart was steady and his fingers were pressed, still, against my back. "I do," he said, leaning his head back just enough to be able to look down at my face. "And are you going to yell at me if I make a big deal out of this? Because I'm already in enough trouble with you, and Mum's going to spank me for running off in the middle of her gala."

The image was priceless.

"Your Mum still spanks you?"

"She may," he said, completely serious. "And Mum played Quidditch when she was young, so I don't want to test her. Are you willing to save me from that?"

"Whatever." I snuck a quick kiss to his chin, just because I could. "And why would I yell at you?"

"You told me not to make a big deal out of your appearance," he said, sneaking a hand up to rest on the side of my face. His thumb swept underneath my eye, and the mood shifted with the softness of his voice. "You said not to utter a single comment, but I am formally asking permission to."

"As you please," I said. I wanted to close my eyes because it was too much - too much in a good way, not overwhelming like it had been before, because I knew how to prepare myself this time - but still overwhelming because I was completely in like with this bloke who I had so detested and who was now watching me with eyes so full of adoration that I wanted to cry. But I kept them open, watching the hazel of his eyes twist into gold and brown and green behind his glasses.

"You look beautiful tonight," he whispered against my lips.

I slid my hands to his neck, feeling the _th-thump-th-thump-th-thump_ there. Finally I closed my eyes, letting our secondary communication take over just after I caught enough breath to say, "Thank you."

Because in our silence, as he held my face in the palm of his hand and pressed his lips to mine, I think those two words had meant something more.

At least, the kiss itself was moving towards something more. It was certainly longer than our other kisses - my hands migrated to the back of his head and stayed there, threading through his messy hair with no shame. As I ran my tongue along his bottom lip, his grip tightened on my waist and we started moving backwards until I felt the desk meet the small of my back.

"Up," he mumbled, unwilling to take his hands from me.

It occurred to me that we were at his mother's gala. It did. For a second, it's all I worried about: _What about his mother? What about Remus and Dorcas? What about Harold? _But he was everywhere, all long fingers and sharp elbows and his lovely lips, and the questions vanished when the second second came by. The second second, much warmer than the first, brought with it a weight in my stomach and this _want. _

Which, you know. _Oh. _

I tried not to be afraid of it. I tried to let it take me where it would, because I was in uncharted territory here and because I trusted him with this. I let James help me sit atop his father's desk - _oh, my God, I am becoming one of those desperate women who wants it anywhere they can get it - _and then just _oh, my God, desperate - _and then just _Oh, God - _and then just _oh, _because instead of our frenzied kiss, it was slow and thorough now, and his tongue slid across my bottom lip. I sat up straighter to allow him to come closer, always closer.

It also occurred to me that, should anybody come looking for us - say, Remus, Dorcas, or somebody like his _mother_ - they'd find us in a very compromising position, with me sitting on Mr. Potter's desk and James, standing between my knees, leaning down over me. It was bad. Real bad. Really, really, really bad, but then, we locked the door, didn't we? We did. And -

_Oh. _And he had a hand on my hip, squeezing gently every time one of us made a sound, which was, God, and I don't even know what sounds I could've been making but snogging James Potter like this was absurdly wonderful and I could see what those girls were talking about, now, and when his other hand left my face and curled around the back of my neck I almost bit his lip off.

_Oh._

"Lily."

I pulled his face roughly against mine. Too much talking. But then he gripped my hip a little too hard and I pulled away, frowning up at him. _What? Why must you stop this beautiful, wonderful thing?_

"Was that your stomach?" he asked with way too much humor in his voice.

And if it were any more possible to be more red-faced than I already was, I managed it. I looked down at my burgundy covered, gold-embroidered stomach and had to focus through my dazed mind to realize that, yes, my stomach was complaining pretty badly.

I groaned and leaned forward to rest my forehead against his chest. "God."

"Have you had anything to eat today?"

"Just pancakes," I replied. I both loved and hated that we could switch so easily from some pretty intense snogging to casual conversation like it was nothing. I didn't know what that said about us. Maybe that we should practice it more?

My stomach creaked again.

Except it wasn't my stomach. The first time my stomach rumbled, it hadn't even sounded like a sound a body organ should be making - which was why I hadn't even noticed it when James pulled away.

And then there was an amazed whistle coming directly behind James.

_No. No. No._

James and I stared at one another, both on the same wavelength, and then I peeked around his shoulder, leaving him to the murder plans, to glare at Sirius.

I'm sure he was taking note of my swollen lips and mussed hair, evident by his evil smirk, especially as he leaned against the edge of the creaking door and crossed his arms.

_Smug bastard. Stupid, dirty, smug…_

"Sirius! So nice to see you," I said, pushing James forward so I could stand. He held my forearms as I got to my feet, but left me to my own devices as I crossed the room and punched Sirius in the shoulder.

"You _arse._"

He jerked away. "What was _that _for?"

"You know what that was for, you self-centered - "

"Hey, hey," James said, laughing, pulling me away. "Let's all calm down and - Paddy, did they - what happened to you?"

He was a little worse for the wear and his hair was out of place, which, for him, was unusual, but other than that he looked fine. The bruise on his face actually made him prettier. _Pretty Princess Sirius and her stupid, stupid ruining-Lily's-snogging self._

"I'm fine, Kreacher gave me a little trouble, but - "

James snorted. "Kreacher? _Kreacher _gave you a little trouble? _Pad_foot, really."

"He did! He's a clever thing - "

"Who is Kreacher?" I asked.

Sirius shook his head, his pride wounded. "Nobody - "

"Kreacher," James said, slipping his hand around my waist and leading me past Sirius and through the door. He whispered the rest to me, and the feeling of his lips on my ear made me shiver. "Is a house elf."

My laugh was boisterous and quite obnoxious, bouncing off the high ceilings in the hallway, but it was so worth it to hear him start grumbling behind us. I turned, grinning. "You got your arse kicked by a _house elf?" _

"Fuck off, Evans."

James punched Sirius in the same shoulder. "Watch it."

Sirius glared. "I hate you both."


	21. Sway

_A/N: I'm not even going to ask if you want the long story or the short, so here it is: life is busy, college is busy, and love is complicated, especially when your boyfriend moves away to get chemotherapy for his recently diagnosed cancer. That's my life in a nutshell for the past few months. As always, a big thank you to Zayz, and an enormous, HUGE thank you to everyone who keeps reading, favoriting, and reviewing. I read every one of your reviews, and every one of them has brought such a smile to my face. I'm so sorry for the longest wait possible for this story to continue, but thank you for hanging in there. Thank you, thank you, thank you._

_So, well. I suppose I'll just leave this here, then... ;)_

_Always,_  
_Mina_

_(Also: lyrics sung are humbly borrowed from Daniel Bedingfield.)_

* * *

**TWENTY ONE: SWAY**

* * *

"Will you hold still?"

"I'm trying to fix my hair, Evans."

"What's more important: your hair, or your face?"

Sirius paused at that. As I stared, my wand poised in midair and pointed at the bruise under Sirius' eye, James grabbed my elbow and started pulling me towards the door and down the hall.

"Hey!" Sirius and I protested.

"Sirius, you can fix yourself, and Lily, there's someone I want you to meet and we have to hurry before - " James cut himself off as we rounded a corner and almost ran into a group of what looked to be ministry workers. He smiled at them, excused us, and escorted me through them. He continued, "She's really excited to meet you, and I wanted to do it earlier but Sirius rang on the mirror and, well. Yeah. But she's excited."

Entering the ballroom, I pulled on his arm to slow him down. I don't know why, only that it was still odd to me that I was here, with him, in this beautiful place. We paused just inside the doorway, next to a bright, glowing fern, and I looked up at him. Charming Potter. He smiled back, easy as you please, and just let me look at him with that cute little what? lighting his eyes.

"Just looking," I said. I straightened his robes and lightly pressed my hands against his chest. "Thanks."

"For what?"

I shrugged. _For this feeling. For not giving up._ "Nothing in particular."

He smiled again, all melty-like. Once upon a time, yeah, that smile would've caused me to roll my eyes and walk away, but now... I shook it off. Though this whole situation was probably surreal for the both of us, I was enjoying it. Sore feet, Sirius, and all.

"Well, you are welcome," he said, kissing my forehead and grabbing my hand. "You ready to meet my second favorite - well, third favorite - lady in the world?"

The girl in the orange. The beautiful blonde stunner in the gorgeous orange dress. With the bangles and the pouty lips and the perfectly curled hair that, for others, would take hours, but she probably just rolled out of bed and put her hair up, which was so unfair. That had to be her, right? Third favorite lady in the world, hopefully third to me and his mother.

Right?

"Uh, yes," I said, because I was. She was likely to be a lovely girl. "Yes, sure."

James nodded, then led me towards the elevated platform where the string quartet was still playing. It was indeed the girl in the orange that he was leading me towards, where she was standing next to a man who was, like her, very tan. The man was scruffy and had dark bags under his eyes. There was a long scar stretching across his cheek. He wasn't entirely unhandsome, but then again, he was standing next to a very beautiful girl. Anybody who stood next to her probably paled (even literally) in comparison.

"James!" she trilled as we neared. She reached out a hand to meet him and grinned when she touched his palm. "Is this her?"

"This is Lily," James said, gently pulling the girl closer. Her shoulder stayed close to his side as she, again, reached out, this time to meet me. Her eyes, a deep blue-green, weren't exactly meeting mine. James nodded his encouragement.

Her hand was tiny but took mine firmly. "Hi," I said. "It's nice to meet you…?"

"Valarie," she said, laughing, shaking my hand. Though her voice was soft and sweet, she had a funny American accent. "James must not have told you much about me, but I've heard a lot about you. So like him, isn't it? Forgetting to tell his girlfriend about his best cousin from across the pond."

Valarie? Valarie _White_? His_ cousin_! From America! I sighed a little sigh of slight, embarassed relief and tried not to show it too much on my face. I'd been jealous - I'll admit it, a tiny part of me had been jealous - of his cousin. I remembered earlier this summer, when Mrs. Potter and Marlene McKinnon spoke about having Valarie over to sing at the gala, but it had never occurred to me that this was her. She and James looked nothing alike.

"It's nice to meet you," I repeated again, more warmly. "I've heard your songs on the wireless, and your voice is so lovely."

She blushed, waving that off, and then gestured to the man beside her. "This is my friend Mason, he's accompanying me from Salem."

Mason nodded his greeting at me, and then continued to not pay attention to any of us. I guessed he was security for Valarie, for whatever reason she'd need security here, amongst socialites and professionals and the elderly. And, you know, muggle-borns.

"Sorry. He's very quiet," Valarie said, smiling, and then looking - almost, but not quite - back at James and I. "Would you two like to dance? I can go ahead and start singing early, if you'd like. Any requests?"

James looked at me. I shook my head, not picky, and he shrugged, then said, "Nope, it's all yours, Val. Please, just your presence and voice alone are gifts enough for us humble Brits."

She laughed, and James left my side momentarily to help her up the short set of stairs. He kissed her hand as she reached the stage; her hand searched the air for a moment before finally finding James's hair, and she ruffled her fingers around for a few seconds before turning away.

"Ladies and sirs," Mason, a wand to his throat, announced to the crowd. His voice, like Valarie's, was also soothing. Surprisingly. "I am pleased and honored to introduce to you tonight Miss Valarie White, a graduate from the Salem Witches Institute. She's happy to be here with you tonight to sing to you all several songs, both old and new. Without further ado: Valarie White."

The crowd applauded. Some, like Dorcas, standing with Sirius and Remus near the buffet, gave whistles.

Valarie smiled to her audience and grasped the old, standing microphone before moving closer to it. "Thank you all, I'm so very glad to be here and so happy to meet new faces from around the world. You've made me feel so welcome. I'd like to sing a song inspired by a person very close to me. He asked me to write this song for his own special person, so please enjoy."

I looked up at James. "You didn't."

"Nope. I didn't. I did not do any such thing."

I watched as couples met on the area in front of the stage. Mr. and Mrs. Potter, Dorcas and Remus, Sirius and the woman in black that I had almost bowled over earlier. The mustard man took a very slight blonde woman in his arms. The string quartet started up behind Valarie; a slow, rhythmic, calming melody, and the lights that were floating around the room dimmed.

James spread his arm toward the dance floor. "My lady? If you'd like to, of course. We can always go back to the study and continue what we were doing earlier. Actually, maybe we should just go and - "

"As promising as that sounds," I said, shaking my head, not so much at his proposal but at his ridiculousness. We joined on the dance floor, my hand on his shoulder and his on my waist, our opposite hands intertwined, and started swaying, only just.

"So I lied earlier," James began, resting his chin on my head. I felt his voice vibrate on my forehead against his throat. "I really did have Valarie write this song. Surprise."

"You are - " Sweet. Out of your mind. Amazing. "Just dance, James."

"But - "

Valarie, amidst the violins and cello and bass, the soft piano, the light-as-air drum, opened her mouth, and magic came out. "_If you're not the one then why does my soul feel glad today? If you're not the one then why does my hand fit yours this way?_"

James tried again. "Thanks for coming tonight. It really means - what I mean to say is that I appreciate… you… and this? And you coming and being here and meeting my parents and my cousin. And understanding about Sirius, that was really great of you." He slowed down. "You're really great, Lily. You know?"

I sighed. Valarie kept singing - "_I'll never know what the future brings, but I know you're here with me now_" - and everything seemed, at that moment, perfect. Maybe too perfect. The too-good-to-be-true kind of perfect that intimidated me when James and I started whatever this was. But I was here, and things were nice, and I didn't want to ruin things by second-guessing myself. I just needed to let go and enjoy things. James and I. Together. Holding hands. Dancing. Breathing the same, our hearts beating the same, moving the same.

It was nice.

I couldn't help it, though. "Is this right?" I said.

His head rested more heavily upon mine. "Is what right?"

"This. You and me."

I could tell he heard the doubt in my voice from the barely noticeable tensing of muscles in his shoulder. He kept swaying, kept me close. "Yes."

Yes. Yes. Yes, this is right. Yes, this is okay. Valarie sang, "_I don't want to run away but I can't take it, I don't understan__d_," and I felt it, I heard it in my mind and my breath and my heart and I was confused within all of these emotions, of right and wrong and doubtful and certain and happy and scared and loved. It was making me a little lightheaded.

"Are you okay?" James asked. When I didn't answer, he pulled away to look at my face, then squeezed my hand harder than normal. "Lily? Hey. You alright?"

_"Is there any way that I can stay in your arms?_"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. I just… I feel a little funny?"

"Nauseated-funny?" He frowned, then felt my forehead. "Did you take any punch from Sirius? Or inhale near that mustard-suit man? He does smell quite nauseating…"

"No, I mean confused-funny, in my head," I said. Now I was frustrated at being so inarticulate. _Did _Sirius spike any of my punch? I didn't even drink that much of it. "I don't - "

"Oh," James interrupted, shaking his head. The worry in his face disappeared. He nodded towards Valerie, who was singing with her eyes closed, swaying gently to the tune of her own song. "No, it's okay. It's Valarie. See, she's blind - "

"Wait, _what_?"

_"I don't know why you're so far away, but I know that this much is true: we'll make it through._"

"She was born blind," James explained, pulling me closer and allowing me to rest against him. "They tried to restore it many times when she was younger, but nothing worked, and now she's just content to be how she is. And she's, well, you see her. It hasn't stopped her. She's been all the more brave and determined for it."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked.

"Yeah, sorry, getting to the point. So you know when one of your senses is weakened, the other ones pick up the slack? Kind of like if Peter was on the Quidditch team, the rest of us would have to play loads better to make up for him being so terrible?"

I laughed. Focusing on his words felt much better than focusing on Valarie's, though I could still hear her voice running through the back of my head.

"Yeah. So ever since she was a kid, her voice has this… quality to it. Imagine that she's a Veela, except without the scary harpy thing, and she can sing like they can."

"So I am being seduced by a Veela."

James chuckled. "No, she's not a Veela. It's just that her voice is a bit magical since she's blind, is all. I'm guessing it's affecting you more because you're not a full-blood, or because you've never heard her sing in public before? Or you're just so in love with the song and with me that it's touching you more? I don't know. But you'll be okay."

"_And I breathe you into my heart and pray for the strength to stand today, 'cause I love you, whether it's wrong or right_," Valarie sang, right into my head, and I thought, okay. James asked this Veela-witch to sing this magic song of all of my feelings and it's making me feel how I really feel and I wish I could get a grip already, please.

"Well," I said.

Still swaying, he slowly guided us towards the left end of the stage. The only reason I noticed was because I was carefully paying attention to the rhythm of our feet and not the song, trying to get my mind in the right place. James, again, tensed.

"What - " he started to mutter.

I looked up at him. He was staring, narrow-eyed, at his parents, who were talking to two Aurors. Another Auror, rushing in from the entranceway, said something to them all and then rushed off again, leaving Mr. Potter's jaw rigid and Mrs. Potter looking exasperated, scared, and angry all at once.

Glancing around quickly, I saw that nobody else noticed this, or were, at least, pretending not to. Not any of the guests, not Dorcas and Remus, not Sirius and the dark-haired woman. They were all still swaying along to Valarie's voice, entranced. James, still holding on to my waist with one hand, was groping around for something in his jacket with his other.

"What's going on?"

Ignoring me, he pulled out his pocket watch, looked dissatisfied with something on it, and put it in his trouser pocket.

"What time is it?" I asked him, now too suspicious to let anything go.

"Uh, half past nine," he said. He looked over the top of my head, spotted someone, and then looked back at me. "Do you mind if I go talk to Sirius for a minute?"

"Not at all, I'll come with you," I said, picking up my dress. "Go on."

For a moment he looked like he was going to say no, but he nodded, because I was stubborn and we both knew it, and allowed me to follow his direct beeline to his best friend. I stood back as he interrupted Sirius and the dark-haired woman. Sirius said something to her and she glared at James before walking away. They whispered to one another for a brief second before I joined them.

"What's going on? Does this have anything to do with your parents? Have they come after you? Is it him?"

"Parents, probably," Sirius said.

"Are they here?"

James said no. Though still listening to me, the two of them had already had a whole conversation just by glancing at one another. Six years together and they had it perfected.

Which, I mean, come on. Not fair.

Valarie's song ended, on some kind of solitary, lingering violin string - at least it sounded like it as it reverberated in my mind - but it was soon crushed by the silence and then by voices atop voices. I shook my head free of Valarie's song, perfect though it was, and focused.

And it hit me, finally, what James had said. "Wait. You said it was half past nine earlier."

"Lily, please," he said to me. Sirius pointed over his shoulder, toward Mr. and Mrs. Potter and the two Aurors, who now looked frustrated as well, and started off towards them.

James bent down to my eye level. "Do you mind staying with Dorcas for a few minutes? I just need to figure out - "

I stared at him. "Are you_ joking_?"

He frowned, taken aback. "About what? This is important - "

"I understand that. So why do I have to go stand with Dorcas? Why can't I come with you? Why do I have to stay in the dark?"

"That's not what I'm saying - "

"That is what you're saying, Potter." I tried to keep my voice quiet. A hand rested on my shoulder, but I was too annoyed at being pushed aside for whatever reason. Maybe he was trying to protect me, maybe he was trying to figure things out on his own, but it wasn't fair. Not when he wanted us to be an _us_, not a _James and Lily but only sometimes_. He could be sweet, but he could also switch right back to the way things used to be. "That's exactly what you're saying. 'Stay with Dorcas. Hang back while I go solve everything.' I know you have a big head, but you know what? You can't do everything. "

James looked like I smacked him. "That's not fair."

From behind me, smooth, calm, and female: "Lily."

"Take her to Dorcas, please, Val," James said to her, thrusting his pocket watch into my hands and turning away without speaking to me. He stomped off, like a little boy, to his parents.

"I can't believe him and his stupid, big head that's just - he is such an enormous prat and he can't even - ugh!"

Valarie rubbed her hand up and down my arm. "It's alright. He's just trying to take care of you."

I watched him across the room. He was standing next to Sirius, talking to Mr. and Mrs. Potter. I guess they were explaining to them what was going on, because both guys looked grave. Maybe he was just trying to take care of me, but I couldn't help but feel our past six years creep up on us. I trusted him. I trusted him with a lot of things, not exactly wholly, but I did. It's just...

"I don't know."

Valarie, gracefully, put her hands directly on my face without fumbling and was close to meeting my eyes. "He loves you, Lily. He_ loves_ you. I know James, and I know his compassion, and I have never experienced that kind of love in my life. I feel him look at you and it is so powerful and moving, and I can feel it every time he says a word about you. I can feel it in the air, Lily, and I know you're getting to understand it, but you have to know that it is true."

_Her voice is magical. She's like a Veela. Don't -_

"Lily?"

Dorcas and Remus found us. I pulled away from Valarie, politely as I could, and said to them, "Do you know what's going on?"

"Sirius thinks his parents and some of their friends are out 'hunting,'" Remus explained. Dorcas shivered. "Probably because of the gala tonight, like a reciprocal thing. We party, so they wreck some lives."

Valarie's hand tightened on my arm. "Are we in danger?"

Surrounded by all of these unbelievably trained, highly gifted witches and wizards, and having her own, personal body guard, I doubted that she was going to be harmed. Even so, we were in a secure place and unless something unexpected occurred, I doubted -

"They're in a neighborhood," Valarie whispered. "It's not just a raid, they're after something."

Dorcas, Remus, and I looked at her. She was very still, her ear turned toward the Potters and the group around them. The gala was still in full swing; the quartet was still playing, people were still mingling, and there were different sounds all around us, but Valarie could pinpoint their voices from across the room without any magic.

Enhanced senses. Huh.

"Near Manchester?" Valarie's eyebrows twitched. My heart started beating faster. "Acker Lane?"

I felt many pairs of eyes on me at once. Dorcas' and Remus'. From across the room, Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Sirius'. James'. Valarie could feel the tension. She squeezed my arm again, questioning.

I swallowed. "That's - I live on Acker Lane. My mum live there."

Nobody said anything. What was there to be said? It wasn't going to be alright. That'd be a lie, flat-out, and completely uncomforting. Nobody was ever alright when Death Eaters attacked a muggle neighborhood.

And this was _my_ neighborhood. My house and my parents and my sister.

James was suddenly right next to me, his energy all over the place, and I looked up at the many different messages in his eyes and picked the one I disliked the most: resistance. He didn't want me to get involved, but I'd be damned if I sat by. Even if I had to go around him and his parents and the Aurors and the entire Ministry to do it.

"No," I told him. "No. You are either with me or you aren't, but I am going."

He pressed his lips together, McGonagall-like, and stared at me. He was still angry from before, I knew that, but he was also scared for me, scared for everyone else, and determined as hell to do something about it. Defiant. He was probably told to stay here, too, and let the Aurors go. He and Sirius both. Sirius, his eyes alight with fury, who had relatives out there. Sirius, so full of hate, and ready to do something.

"So?" I said.

James glanced around us, his jaw tight, and lowered his voice. "There's a place we can Apparate from inside the house. We can go in pairs. Me and Lily. Remus and Dorcas. Sirius, I need you to get Val with Mason and then meet us there."

Sirius looked disgruntled for a brief second, then rearranged his face. "Can do." Valarie sought his arm.

"Are you sure about this?" James asked me.

I was frightened out of my mind, but if they were looking for something and we could find it before they did, we could use it against them. If they were just on a spree, then we could try to stop them until the Ministry got there or they fled. Or we could just find my mum and Petunia and keep them safe. Or… I didn't really have a plan, but I felt like I had to do something, even if this was poorly thought out and reckless and irresponsible.

"I'm sure."


	22. Turning

_A/N: Many thanks to Zayz for being wonderful, as is her default, and for all of YOU who review and PM me, poking a stick to get me writing again. Really, they are a huge motivation, and I don't know where this story would be if not for you. I read each and every review and PM (sometimes multiple times) and they make me feel so much better about writing - and so bad about taking so long. I am going to finish this story out. I am out of college for the summer and have time to write away. I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and as always, thank you for being patient and sticking with me. Enjoy!_

_Always,  
Mina_

* * *

**TWENTY TWO: TURNING**

* * *

James took my hand and led me, quickly but discreetly, through the crowd. We skirted the edge of the room and slipped out past the group of Aurors and James' parents. Our grip was damp - I wasn't sure if it was his hand or mine that was sweating, or if it was both, but his fingers were wrapped tightly around mine and I wasn't going to let go, gross and sweaty be damned.

"This way," James said, tugging me around a corner. "I'm not supposed to tell you about this - Mum and Dad are going to kill me - but I suppose it's an emergency. Hopefully they haven't shut it down yet. If they have - "

"They haven't," I insisted. Of course I had no way of knowing that, but it had to be true; we didn't have any other way. "It'll be open. Just hurry."

As we ran, I finagled my wand out of the slit at my hip and slid it up the sleeve of my free arm, where it rested smooth against my wrist, my pulse. Having it there was a comfort. James led me up the set of stairs near the office, down another hall, and into a wood-paneled room. There were long, burgundy curtains hanging from the tall window and a squishy carpet under my feet. A four-poster was tucked into the corner, and a desk sat next to the door, on my right. Moving pictures and posters lined the walls.

"My bedroom," James said as I paused to look around. He dropped my hand and disappeared behind a door on the left. I heard the sound of a shower curtain being tugged back.

A big, deep breath did almost nothing to ease my anxiety, but I did notice that his room smelled of pine and that my heart did a little splutter thing when I was nervous. The bed looked extremely comfortable and I wanted to sit down and sink into it, kick off my shoes, pretend that everything was normal. I wanted to feel safe here.

James poked his head around the corner. "Lily? We don't have a lot of time."

I shook my head clear - _focus _- and followed him into his bathroom. He was standing in his shower. It was an unlikely spot for an Apparation point, which was the idea, I guessed, but still: the shower?

"Is it still open?" I asked. "Have they shut it off?"

He held out his hand. "We should be fine. Here - "

Another voice, loud: "James!"

A shove. The granite countertop slammed into my hip. I turned in time to see a flash of black and James hitting the back wall of the shower before he disappeared, a dark figure wrapped around his torso.

Silence.

"No, no, no." _Don't lose it. Breathe. Don't kill Sirius. Breathe. _I stepped into the shower and took out my wand, intent on following them. Before I could twist it, Dorcas rushed into the room with following Remus soon after.

"Stop! Lily, stop!" She reached in, her hand a vice around my wrist, and yanked me out of the shower. I tripped. The two of us toppled over, limbs and wands askew.

"James," I said. I tried to untangle myself from Dorcas' hair and scrambled to pick up my wand. "Sirius tackled James into the shower and Apparated. We - we have to follow them before they close it!"

"Lily…"

Remus helped me up. He kept hold of my wand arm as I stood next to him, trembling, trying to move, to _do_ something. He and Dorcas were both moving so slowly; didn't they understand? My mother was in trouble - my sister was in trouble - my neighbors and my home and everything I had ever known was in trouble and they were just standing around, talking about what was going on.

"We have to go," I stressed. Remus allowed me to pull my arm from his grasp, but as I turned back to the shower again, he put an arm around my waist.

"It's closed," he said. "They've closed it, Lily - "

I pushed him off and glared at Dorcas as she got to her feet. "How do you know? How do either of you know?"

Again, another voice, another interruption: "It's true."

A young woman - the woman that had shoved past Remus and I when we arrived, a tight black dress wrapped snug around her curves, her dark hair pulled into a high updo - walked into the room and shut the door behind her. She locked it and marched into the bathroom, and if I didn't know any better, I swore I knew that saunter.

"He's right: they've shut off this Apparation point," she said. She started grabbing pins from her hair and tossing them onto the counter with ridiculous speed. As her hair began to fall, it changed. From her updo it was slick and black as the night, but pin after charmed, hair-color-changing pin hit the counter and fell into the sink, and strand after strand faded light, lighter, a white-blonde shine. Her eyes went from squinty and blue to a big, dark brown.

Dorcas gasped.

"There's another one, though," Siobhan said, now with her own voice, leaning down to unbuckle her heels. She kicked them to the side and looked at the three of us. "In the attic."

"What - "

Thankfully Remus cut Dorcas off. "We don't really have time for questions, and I don't want to know how you found out about the point. We'll follow you."

Siobhan nodded and left the room. Remus followed.

Dorcas looked to me, hesitation wrinkling her forehead. "Where did she even come from? Why didn't she tell us she was here?"

I didn't know, and I wasn't sure that it mattered at this point. Twisted though they probably were, Siobhan was sure to have her reasons. She had time to explain later. We needed to find my mother.

"Come on," I said to Dorcas. We followed after Siobhan and Remus, up stairways and through an older hall. Pictures on the walls here were older, statues more weathered. We stopped in front of a door with a gold handle.

Siobhan pressed her ear to the door. "I don't hear anybody," she said before pulling it open. We hiked up another set of stairs into a low-ceilinged attic littered with boxes and curtained furniture. In the corner, a cracked teapot sat on a nightstand with a broken leg. Siobhan led us over there and put her hand on Remus' arm, who then touched Dorcas. My grip on her hand tightened.

"Do you trust me?" Siobhan asked.

Goosebumps raised on my arms. Of course we trusted her; why wouldn't we? Did we have any reason not to?

As if they didn't feel how odd the question seemed, Remus nodded, Dorcas nodded; I looked at the two of them, took their faith in Siobhan, and nodded, too. I was just being paranoid. It was Siobhan.

She screwed her eyes shut, twisted her wand in a tight circle, and pulled us into space.

**...**

The silence was near deafening. My heartbeat, _thump thump_, rushed, pounded loud in my ears. There was darkness at first as I fell into the street, as my hands hit rough concrete, as my elbows buckled and sent me forward head-first. My chin broke my fall and my teeth snapped together. I think my dress ripped somewhere, but I was pulled up too quickly, reoriented too quickly to care. Remus let me go and took out his wand, lighting a quick _lumos_.

We were in an alleyway between two houses. A trash bin was toppled over, its contents spilling out onto the road and stinking. Dorcas had a banana peel speared underneath her heel and Siobhan was busily pulling crumbs from her hair.

"We need to find Padfoot and Prongs," Remus whispered, more together than I would have expected of him. He peeked around the corner of the house. "We need to regroup and figure out what to do. The Aurors are probably here already."

I wiped my chin. Blood and tiny bits of rock smeared the sleeve of my gown. "We just - we need to find my mum first. That's our first priority. Mine, at least."

Siobhan walked to the mouth of the alley. She straightened her shoulders and stepped out, wand at the ready. Her feet, bare, looked so white and tiny against the night. She turned to me. "Lead the way."

I looked down at my dress, found the rip, and pulled. The rich fabric slipped from my fingers; the new hem of the gown fell to my knees. I knew I'd regret it later, knew I'd mourn the loss of such a beautiful dress, knew I could've just charmed it shorter, but the action of it was relieving, and at least I could move around better now. Siobhan raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged, stepping carefully past her.

Across the street, Mrs. Lindy's front door was wide open. A front window was broken. All of the houses down the street looked to be in the same condition, though as we got closer to my house there was more damage: more broken windows, doors hanging off the hinges, entire holes in walls, shrubbery ripped out of the ground or smoking. We stayed to the shadows, ducking behind cars or bushes when we heard any sounds. Usually they were animals running across the road, ducking under cars, just as skittish as we were.

I was beginning to think that we had missed it - we had missed the fight, or the fight had gone elsewhere, or the Aurors had acted faster than we had and took care of everything already. That didn't make sense, though. It had only been minutes since we heard about the Death Eaters being on the street. If they had taken care of things already, the Aurors would've had to do clean up, repair the destroyed houses, install the muggles back into their houses. That would take time, time that we were now stepping into.

The street was wrecked. No James and Sirius, no Death Eaters, no Aurors. _This is wrong…_

Siobhan put out her arm. "Wait," she whispered. She pointed with her wand, and I saw my house a ways down. The door was in pieces on the lawn. My breath shook. I shoved past her and ran, wobbly at first, right down the middle of the street. I was obvious, so obvious: a streak of red hair and a red dress, glowing white skin, loud clicky-clacky heels, running full-tilt. I was so obvious but I didn't care about myself, only about my mother and my sister, only about finding them.

The light was shot from the house to my left.

Red, red light. A burst of pain, air. Blackness, a flickering of colors and awareness and voices, angry and threatening. A snarling dog.

I opened my eyes and pushed myself forward, scraping my hands on the ground again. Someone rolled me into the grass, onto my back, and slapped my face. "Come on, Lily. Come on. Come on. Come on."

I moaned. It was so hard to focus, to breathe.

"Lily, come on now, _chérie_. _Réveillez-vous_. Ah - fuck it. Remus!"

My stomach bubbled. I turned and vomited, the acrid smell like fear and pain. Hands wrapped around my waist and pulled me upward, and I hung on to someone's shoulders, dizzy with the new altitude and with the weight on my feet.

"Lily," Remus said, smoothing the hair from my face. He cupped my cheek and shook it gently. "Hey, look at me. Lily."

I met his eyes.

"There you are. You got hit pretty hard. We've got to move though, Lily. Are you with me?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. Leftover vomit and blood swirled around in my mouth. Splinters stuck into my dress from where I hit the railing of the Oppensteins' house, and I picked one from my shoulder, trying to ignore the pain. I felt it all over. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm okay."

He pressed my wand into my hand and held it there, urgency in his jittery fingers. "We need you. The Aurors aren't here and we're sitting ducks right now. Are you going to be alright? Can you help us?"

Yes. I nodded. Yes, I was alright, I was going to find James, I was going to find my mother. I took a step forward, then another, and soon I was walking, albeit much more cautiously. There was so much pain and so much more noise, more spells and flashes of light and shouting. My house was right ahead, not but two mailboxes away, and I could almost smell the familiar cinnamon, almost taste it. _Careful now. Careful_.

"Hey, Red!"

A masked Death Eater stood in front of the house across the street, twirling his wand. I shivered. It was my first time seeing one in person. The robes were darker than coal, darker than the Blacks, and the mask was intricate and menacing.

_Don't be afraid_, I told myself. _Don't be afraid. Stand up straight. Look at him._

The Death Eater stopped in the middle of the street. I could hear Remus breathing heavily beside me. The others were nowhere in sight, but I could hear them, see their wands flashing. Some were behind houses and some were in them - a window broke and glass shattered into the yard next to me. The Death Eater in front of us chuckled and raised his wand, waving it towards the sky.

Green. The skull and serpent.

"Shit," Remus muttered. His hand snaked around my wrist but I stood my ground. It was either fear or anger or a stupid streak of stubbornness that kept me there, but I kept thinking of the young couple that lived in that house, the young couple with a child, and that man, that despicable Death Eater -

"Lily, your mum - "

"_Stupefy!_"

It hit the Death Eater from two directions at once. My raised wand shook as he fell. Dorcas ran toward Remus and I, her hair fried on one side and her dress in the same shape as mine.

A stupefy chased after her, the caster unseen. Remus shoved her out of the way, ready to take the blast, but I waved my wand quickly, like second nature: "_Protego!_" The red hit my light blue and crackled, a deep purple fizzling in the air, and the Death Eater after Dorcas ran into the street, casting stupefy after stupefy as he ran.

I ducked behind a car, trying to make myself as small and invisible as I could. The red light stopped; his footsteps continued.

The whole situation was unreal. Here I was, ducking behind a car in my muggle neighborhood, dressed in a ruined ball gown, fearing for my life. I was completely unprepared for any of this. During my time at Hogwarts, I thought I had been learning things that would prepare me for the Real World.

Not so.

I learned silly charms that would levitate things and potions that would soothe a cold but nothing that would save me from a powerful hex. I knew _stupefy_ and _protego_ from Defense Against the Dark Arts, but they were never practiced. I wasn't prepared for fighting, and yet here I was. My generation would be the one to combat Voldemort and his people. My generation. _Me_. Me and James and Sirius and Dorcas, our classmates, our roommates: we were the defense, the offense. And if the absence of the Aurors was any indication: we would be in it alone.

What use was I if I didn't know anything? If I didn't know how to calm myself or what spells to use or what a dead body looked like when it was touched with an Avada Kedavra?

The footsteps stopped. Whatever I knew or didn't know, I'd have to use now. So I slipped my shoes off as quietly as I could, gripped my wand, and ran. A stupefy was shouted and flew above my head, singeing some of my hair. I ducked - a late reaction - and shot a stupefy back behind me. I heard it hit a barrier, and then I ran into one.

The Death Eater behind me chuckled. He was strolling, as I turned around, and I'm sure beneath his mask there was a smirk.

"Not bad, Red," he said. Dark blood seeped into the cloth from a tear in his robes and ran down his arm. It dripped from his glove onto the pavement.

"What do you want?" Unconsciously I tried to back up, but the barrier was still there. The only way out was forward. The only thing stopping me was him.

It was impossible.

"Well, you see, that's a complex question, Lily Evans. We want a lot of things. We as in the Dark Lord and his humble servants." The Death Eater stopped a few feet away. "You are welcome to join us.; that's one of the things that we always want. You."

"I won't," I said. My voice wasn't as strong as I would've wanted it to be. "I won't join you. You can go to hell."

He laughed again. "I'm sure that's where I'm heading. Regardless, you have something we want, and I'm not allowed to let you go without getting it."

Myself? I was the only thing I could think of. What else did I own? There was nothing dark about anything magical I owned - my books, my owl, my quills. All I had that they could utilize was my mind and my power. And I wasn't about to let them have those.

Siobhan came out of nowhere, looking untouched. She, too, was walking slowly, as if she didn't have a care in the world, as if there wasn't a big green Dark Mark hanging in the sky. "You should probably listen to him," she said, coming to stand slightly behind the Death Eater. She pointed her wand at me.

My stomach dropped. This wasn't happening.

_Do you trust me?_

"Shiv?"

"Just saying," she shrugged. "The offer isn't bad. A powerful group of allies. Ways to get whatever you want. No laws, no rules."

Tears pressed against my eyes. My strong little Siobhan, darkness in her eyes, stood behind a Death Eater with her wand pointed at my heart. "Shiv, this isn't you. It's not. You can't do this."

The Death Eater nodded. "Listen to your friend. Girl's got a good head on her shoulders. And by good I mean deceptive, not, you know, _good_."

Siobhan kept her face blank.

_This isn't happening. This isn't happening. _I pressed against the barrier at my back - solid. Where the hell was everyone? James and Sirius? Dorcas and Remus? The bloody damn Aurors, for God's sake?

"Think about what you're saying," I said to her.

She looked at me hard, said, "I'm sorry," and swung her wand around. I put an arm up - as a shield? to block myself from the light? a dumb instinct? - and braced myself, one arm against the invisible barrier at my back.

But nothing came. The Death Eater in front of me fell to the ground and the shield dissipated. Siobhan nodded at me before taking off into an alleyway.

"Lily!"

Dorcas and Remus ran up.

"Where were you guys?" I demanded. "I was just cornered and Shiv - "

"We found your mum."

Relief. Pure relief swept through me, the most amazing, cleansing feeling. Siobhan wasn't important at this point; we could find her later.

"Where are they? Are they alright?"

"They're with James," Remus said, pointing in the direction behind my house. "Way back. He found them before the Death Eaters could get to them."

_Oh, James. _I didn't want it to be true, but I had to be certain: "Are you sure it's them? That it's James?"

Remus nodded.

"Okay. Keep to the shadows just in case there's anybody else around."

We weaved through the grass beside my house and ducked past an open area behind the backyard. The next street over was basically untouched: no broken windows, no trashed doors, no blood on the sidewalk. We were the only oddities, three teenagers in formalwear, looking beaten and bloodied. Probably suspicious, too, sneaking through the dark places, ducking behind cars and watching behind our backs.

Dorcas led us into the patch of trees behind a house on Magnolia Street. She held up an arm. "James? It's Dorcas. I brought Lily."

A dog unearthed itself from a shrub and smelled my hand, then Dorcas's hand, then Remus'. It barked, jumping, and turned away into the darkness. _Snuffles?_

I was too exhausted, too tired of suppressing pain, too ready to see my mum, to ask.

"Alright, let's go," Remus said, leading the way forward.

A few feet ahead, the dog barked and Remus lit his wand. Nestled against a tree, my mother sat on the ground, looking pale but otherwise whole and safe. James and Sirius were nowhere to be seen.

Tears fell from my eyes. "Mum?"

Mum gasped and scrambled to stand. I lunged forward, falling into her arms. Her embrace was warm and comforting, no mind that I was sweaty and bloody and probably still smelled of vomit. Hair fell into my mouth as she pulled me close and I didn't even care - didn't care that we were both crying or that I could feel something wriggling around under my toes or that I had almost died. I didn't want to move, didn't want to go anywhere that didn't involve me keeping my eye on her.

"Oh, honey," Mom whispered over and over. "Oh, honey. I was so scared."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Half of my speech was unintelligible bawling, sniffles and gasping and promises. "I should've been there, I'm so sorry."

Her hand rested on my head. "It's alright, Lily. I'm fine. James got to me first."

I pulled away from her, wiping my eyes with one hand and keeping one on my mother's arm. She looked alright. Her clothes were in one piece, her eyes didn't look addled or charmed, no blood - she was fine. _Alive._

"Where is James?" I asked.

"He said he was going to patrol the perimeter," Mum said. She looked around them. "I think he did some spell or something, in a circle?"

Remus reached out and probed the area around my mum. "There looks to be some resistance - "

And then I saw them: big, brown eyes peering at me from behind a tree. The light from Dorcas' wand illuminated the antlers, the velvety fur, the large shoulders and body. I backed into Mum as the thing came closer. A stag.

Remus took a step forward and whispered, "Uh, Prongs, I don't think - "

_Prongs? _

Dorcas gasped. She connected the pieces faster, said it faster than I could: "James?"

The stag bowed its head. I blinked, and it started changing shape, started shifting right before my eyes, hooves into hands, antlers disappearing. Unfolding from the ground, James stood where there had just been an animal.

He looked at me. "Lily?"

I fainted.

******_- QS -_**

Pain. Pain in my dreams, pain in my sleep, pain as I opened my eyes to a dark, warm room. I moaned, rolled over, and then thought better of it. Pressure on my hip felt like fire licking the bone, but moving back to where I had been put stress on my shoulder and the big splinter hole that had been there.

"Oh, Merlin," I muttered, wishing I could sink into a hot, lovely bath or a cool, empty coma. Either one would be nice. Anything to ease the hurt and the dreams.

I decided to sit up. It took a long minute, but once I rested against the headboard, my head started feeling better. My arms, resting on the thick comforter, were clean and free of the scrapes and bruises that had been there last night. My hair was even clean, and the scrape on my chin felt like it had been healed. Physically, I was okay. Tired, but okay.

I looked around. Wood paneling, Quidditch posters, messy desk. The drapes were drawn - long and burgundy. James' room.

James.

Was it a dream? I knew I found Mum, of that much I was certain. The relief was unmistakable, remarkable; I couldn't imagine something like that. I had found her - _James _had found her - and I held her with my own arms, smelled the faint cinnamon of my mother's blouse. But then those eyes…

_Knock knock. _

"Come in."

It felt odd to let someone into a room that wasn't my own. James stepped through the doorway and shut it behind him. He looked comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, and I wondered briefly who changed me into the nightgown that I had on.

He sat beside me. "How are you?"

I didn't know what to say. "Fine" was a lie. "In pain" sounded like I was whinging. "Betrayed" was closer, but was also too close to home right now, and I didn't know how to explain what happened with Siobhan and what I thought I saw in the woods. It was ridiculous; of course it had been a dream.

Hadn't it?

"Lily?" He put his hand on my face and frowned when I flinched away from him. "Lily…"

"I'm sorry," I said, looking at my lap. It was quiet, and then, because we were trying to be honest: "I don't know what I saw last night."

"With what?"

"With you."

He inhaled sharply. I glanced at him and the anxiety on his face, knowing that he was trying to think of something to say.

"Please." I reached out, hesitated, and then ran my thumb across a scar on his forearm. His skin was smooth. "Please don't lie to me."

"You - you saw what you think you saw," he said, his voice rough. "In second year, we - uh, Sirius and I - decided to become Animagi. We had our reasons, mostly noble ones, and it took us several years but in fifth year we managed to do it. What you saw last night, that was me. My form is a stag."

"When were you going to tell me?"

He was silent.

"Can you leave now, please?"

"Of course." He squeezed my hand and smoothed my hair from my forehead. His eyes were conflicted, but all I could feel was hollow. "Can I kiss you?"

_Is that really appropriate? _I asked myself, but part of me wanted it, too. A small part. After all, he had saved my mum, possibly from death. He had taken care of me, healed me, tucked me into his bed. He had recognized what was important to me, trusted me. It wasn't his fault that Sirius took him through the Apparation point before I could. It wasn't his fault that I had been cornered, that Siobhan had planted doubt into my heart.

I nodded, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine. If only he could lay beside me, place his hand against my heart and tell me that everything was going to be okay; if only he could kiss my eyelids and push the bad dreams away, take the memories from my mind.

He pulled away, a sad smile on his face. "I'm right down the hall if you need me."

He was at the door, then his hand was on the handle, and then he was gone. I sank back against the pillows and cried.


	23. Choice

_A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry! I know this is so late. Real life is demanding. I'm so glad for all of you who are still here, reading this, and those of you who are just joining us: thank you! _

_As always,  
Mina_

* * *

**TWENTY THREE: CHOICE**

* * *

_What was Siobhan doing? She knocked that Death Eater out, but the way she talked - is she really with them?_

_Why didn't the Aurors show up?_

_Should I be mad at James? He has a right to have his own secrets…_

Questions with no answers. I talked myself in circles with each one. Siobhan's intentions were a mystery to me, as was the absence of the Aurors. We were basically children, running around with wooden sticks playing pretend, and we'd been left there alone to fend for our own lives. Somebody, somewhere, was jerking us around like it was all a game - that was the only explanation I could come up with. Once our presence had been found out, the Aurors had been tasked to let us fend for ourselves. I suppose that was our punishment for sneaking out and taking things into our own hands.

But how could they? And what if we had died?

Either someone would get into tremendous trouble or it would all be covered up. The attacks, the Death Eaters, the Dark Mark, our deaths - it would all be wiped away like it never happened. The murdered muggles would be buried, their deaths explained as a car accident. What of us? Would we be buried too, our deaths no longer noble or respected, but a tragic mishap? Would my mum even remember me or would the Aurors wipe their memories, my existence not even remembered?

Would Siobhan do me in?

It was a physical pain, the thought of it. I knew things were getting hard for Siobhan, but I never imagined… How could she? _A powerful group of allies, ways to get whatever you want, no laws, no rules. _Heartbreak didn't do that to a person, didn't drive them to support someone so evil, didn't change them so completely. She had to know what she was doing. So Mel was an asshole and broke her heart. If James did that to me, I'd certainly be sad, but I wouldn't, couldn't ever become a Death Eater.

I shivered.

And how could James keep such a huge secret from me?

To be honest, I didn't know how I would've reacted if he had told me any sooner. Maybe he didn't know how to reveal it. Maybe showing me, transforming without notice or warning, maybe that was the easiest way to do it. There had just been a messy multitude of things going on, so much stress and adrenaline, that him being an Animagus on top of everything else was too much shock for my body to handle.

How in the world did he manage it, though? Only the most powerful, talented wizards had the dedication and skill to become Animagi. For some reason, it amazed me that James Potter had done it. I knew he was intelligent, but to think that he was one of the most powerful wizards even at our age - mind you, this was Potter, the ultimate prankster who spent a ridiculous amount of time goofing off in detention - was mind-boggling. I couldn't see where his maturity had come from. As a second year, only twelve years old, he sat down, decided that he was going to spend years of his life reading books and studying things that were unnecessary to his studies, and dedicated himself to it.

He said he had noble reasons, and I was starting to believe it, but what would he need to sacrifice so much time for? What was that important, even at twelve years old? Even now?

I sighed and leaned against the headboard. When had life decided to get so complicated?

_Knock knock._

"James?"

"The other half," Sirius said, sweeping into the room, a different entity altogether. Like James, he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and like James, the bags underneath his eyes were prominent. "So we should talk."

I was already wary. "About what?"

He sat on the bed, facing me, and said, "James is distraught. As his best friend, it is my obligation to be here and mediate."

"James can also grow antlers out of his skull; why wouldn't he be distraught?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Lily - "

"No, there will be no _Lily_." I could feel my indignance, frustration, and disbelief building. "You know what? You and James are unregistered Animagi. Do you know what that means? Besides being highly illegal, it means that you turn into something that isn't human. You can _morph _into _animals._"

"Yes, that's what an Animagus is - "

"Do Remus and Peter even know? Is this one little secret between you and James?"

"Well - "

"This isn't a _game_, Sirius! You two could've killed yourself in the process!"

"But we didn't, and if you - "

"You will get arrested and thrown in Azkaban if you don't register. Do you even know how awful Azkaban is? Truly, Sirius, do you know? It's horrid - "

Sirius put his hand over my mouth. His stare was solemn. "Do you trust me?"

Trust. It always came back to trust, in the end. First with James: did I trust him? I was learning to, and in the process, somewhere along the line, I had started to trust him more than I trusted myself. Did that come back to hurt me? Sometimes, yes. The fact that he was a Animagus, the fact that he didn't tell me, that stung. It felt like something one would tell a girlfriend: _hey, I can change into a stag. _Finally it felt like I was figuring him out, and then he sprung a completely disarming secret on me. Was I to trust him after that?

Did I trust Siobhan? Yes, I did. Did it feel like a slap in the face when she showed up out of the blue, disguised as another person, at the Potter's gala? Did it feel like a stab in the back when she stood behind a Death Eater and pointed her wand at my heart? Did it hurt that she was turning into a stranger in front of my eyes? Yes.

_Do you trust me?_

Sirius waited for an answer. He took his hand away from my mouth and placed it in his lap, still and patient. From talking with James, I knew that trust and loyalty was a huge thing for Sirius.

_It means a lot to him. He doesn't easily forget someone who breaks his trust. _

Sirius, a Black, a friend. Despite the secrets, despite our past, he was always there, always ready to listen, always ready to take up arms for any of us. He went about things in an obnoxious, unnecessarily reckless way, but that didn't discount the fact that he was present, solid. He was a surprising, open ear.

Did I trust him?

"Yes."

His eyes softened. "Then there's a lot you need to know. Now, it was voted that I come talk to you - "

"Wait, there was a _vote_? That's… offensive."

He laughed. "We didn't know who you'd want to hear everything from. James wasn't sure you wanted him around, and Remus, well, we took a vote. They figured you'd listen to me."

"Because we're _so_ close," I said.

"You wound me." He placed a hand on his heart. "I thought we were friends."

This time I laughed. "We are. So what else is there to know? You and James are Animagi. I don't think I can get more shocked than that."

"Remus is a werewolf."

"No, really. What, is Dumbledore a really convincing ghost? Is Peter a vampire? That would explain a lot, actually…"

"Lily. Remus is a werewolf." No joking in his eyes, no hidden smirk playing about his lips. "Think about it."

_Oh. _

No preemption, no warning, no gradual lead-up. _Remus is a werewolf. _

Remus is a _werewolf. _

_Remus _is a werewolf.

Oh.

"Lily? You're spacing out on me. I need some kind of reaction."

Well, my heart was certainly beating faster. Remus, kind-hearted, warm, witty, patient, brilliant Remus was a werewolf. The more that I thought about it, the more that it made sense. The boys teased him about his monthlies, he had a furry problem, he spent time in the hospital wing every month. The scars, the torn clothing… James, Sirius, and Peter were protective of him, took offense to Sev- _Snape's _teasing.

So Snape's suspicious were true, then.

He had always told me what he thought about Remus - that Remus was a werewolf, that the Whomping Willow was planted to protect him, that Dumbledore was a fool for allowing a monster like Remus into the school. I wasn't able to see it then - Remus, a werewolf?

It was Remus.

"Lily?"

But it didn't matter, right? I hadn't known until now, and nothing about Remus ever changed. He was still a lovely person. Just because I knew, now, didn't make him any different. Right?

And James' noble reason. James became an Animagus to help Remus. Animals were known to ease a werewolf's transition and time spent in the wolf form, and James and Sirius and their stupid loyalty…

"Are you _crying?_ It's still Remus. Just because he, you know, turns into a rampaging wolf-man every month doesn't mean - "

"No, no, I know," I finally said, wiping my eyes. These boys - these _men _were so dumb and wonderful. "I just can't…"

I reached over and wrapped my arms around him. Startled, most likely prepared for me to break down or hit him, he sat still for a moment before hugging me back. "You're not going to kill James, are you?"

Laughing, I buried my face in his neck. "No, why?"

"He's convinced that you think he's an absolute prat because he wasn't honest with you." Sirius pulled away. "He didn't know how to tell you, but now you know, and now you know Remus' secret, too. And mine. And Peter's."

"_Peter _managed it?"

"I know, we were all shocked, too. James didn't tell you?"

I leaned back against the headboard, my brain trying to keep afloat. Remus was a werewolf, James, Sirius, and Peter were Animagi. Anything else?

"Well," Sirius said when I asked him this. "Dumbledore is here, and so are Peter and Siobhan."My veins turned cold. Siobhan was here? "Is she detained?"

"No?" Sirius frowned. "Should she be?"

Maybe she turned herself in. Maybe she'd been captured. Maybe all of the Death Eaters she'd been hanging around with had been captured, too, but Siobhan identified them for the Aurors so that she could be let go. A bargain: her freedom for betrayal.

Another one.

"What aren't you telling me?" Sirius asked, an edge to his voice. "Did something happen last night?"

I had to tell someone. "She, um… she was with them. A Death Eater cornered me with a shield charm and told me that he was looking for something, told me that I should join them, and then Siobhan came up and told me that I should listen. She said that the offer wasn't bad, Sirius, and the look on her face was so empty. Her wand was pointed at my chest."

"Did she hit you?"

I tried to calm the darkness in his face. "No, no. She hit the Death Eater and then ran. I don't know if she was just trying to trick him to let me go but it didn't sound like it."

"You need to tell Dumbledore about this." Sirius stood up and took my hand, all but pulling me out of bed. Luckily I had changed and wasn't in my nightgown anymore.

"I can't. Sirius, don't!" I dug my heels into the carpet. "You can't do this to Shiv. You don't know what she was thinking!"

"She shouldn't have betrayed us."

**...**

Sirius barged into a room that looked like Mr. Potter's office, but bigger and warmer. Sitting in front of the fireplace, in big, stuffed armchairs identical to the ones in Gryffindor common room, were Dumbledore and Siobhan.

"Why, Mr. Black, Miss Evans. If you could wait, I am in the middle of a conversation with Miss Delaney here."

Sirius had no care for this. "Tell him," he said, giving me a little push. I glared at him, but he only glared back, stubborn and angry. "You tell him, or I will."

I stood silently. I wouldn't do it.

Dumbledore stood. "What is the urgency, Mr. Black? If you could please - "

"Siobhan is allied with Voldemort."

"You have no idea what you're saying," Siobhan shouted, getting to her feet. Black eyeliner was smeared underneath her eyes and down her face, damp and messy. Her eyes burned into mine. "You have no idea."

My voice shook: "I heard what you said to me, Siobhan. I saw you point your wand at me."

"Friends don't do that," Sirius growled. "_Gryffindors _don't do that. If you want powerful allies, you look here, in this room. You look in this house. Cowards aren't allies, they're spineless, evil pigs."

Dumbledore stood in front of Siobhan. "Mr. Black, that's enough. Leave this room. When you are calm, bring the others and yourself back." He pointed to the door.

Sirius opened his mouth, then shut it. With a glance at me, he stomped out of the room, grumbling to himself.

"Siobhan, you may go. Thank you for your disclosure."

Siobhan swept past me without a word.

"Miss Evans," Dumbledore said. He walked toward me - even now, it still appeared as if Dumbledore floated across the ground - and took my hand. His skin was wrinkly and soft; I was afraid that it would start peeling away if I held his hand too tightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, thank you. How's Mum? Did you speak with her?"

"I did, I did. They are holding up very well. We found it necessary to erase their memory of the night, as it could have led to significant mental trauma and additional stresses, so I would suggest not mentioning to them anything that occurred this past night. You understand."

That would be good for them, not being able to remember. If only I could be able to have the same, the un-memory. It would be nice. I could live without the memory of the pain, the green Dark Mark hanging in the sky, the feeling of being so very, very alone. For my mum, though, it was for the best.

"Are they at home?"

"They are. The neighborhood has been cleaned up and there have been no other threats on that area. Ah! Here we are." Dumbledore looked past me to the others, who were now entering. "Sit, all of you, sit."

While Dumbledore summoned a few chairs, I waved hello to Peter and hugged Dorcas. She kissed me on the cheek and the two of them sat down. Sirius stomped in, still pouting, ignoring everyone, and took a seat next to her.

Remus avoided my eyes and tried to slip past me, too, but I took his arm. _Remus is a werewolf. _I looked at him, and though his scars and the gray hair around his temples had meaning, he hadn't changed in my eyes.

"Remus, it's alright."

He sighed his relief and took my hand like a handshake, but didn't shake it. He only held on, his grip tight and thankful. No words, only that brief touch and warm eyes, and then he let go.

And then I turned, and James was there, his arms around me, my face pressed against his chest.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you," he said.

"It's alright." I pulled away and kissed him briefly on the lips. The smile on his face was worth it. I wanted to tell him everything: how surprised and proud I was, how sorry, but Dumbledore was standing right behind us and I was already blushing at having kissed James in front of our old Headmaster. "I overreacted."

"Well…"

"Mr. Potter, Miss Evans," Dumbledore interrupted. "Happy though I am to see the two of you happy with one another - quite pleased, indeed - I would ask the two of you to sit with your fellows. We have much to discuss."

We sat. Nobody mentioned that Siobhan was missing, but I felt her absence. Somewhere in this house, Siobhan was sitting alone while we were together, the six of us.

"I owe you an apology and an explanation for last night," Dumbledore said, crossing his spindly fingers on his lap. "I was alerted that Voldemort and his followers were attacking a neighborhood near Manchester. When I arrived here, to speak with the Potters, I was also alerted that all of you, except Mr. Pettigrew, who was at his home, were missing.

"It was assumed that you all had gone through the secret Apparation points here in the mansion in order to find Mr. and Mrs. Evans. I ordered all but three Aurors to stay. Those three followed you, but kept back, only to intervene only if they believed a grave danger to your lives."

_The whole situation was a danger to our lives, _I thought, squeezing James' hand.

"In their report, those Aurors stated that you all acted bravely and admirably. The threat was real, dangerously so, but your actions displayed much courage. It was not a test, but I believe it to have been the sign that I've been looking for in the few of you. What I am going to tell you is an utmost secret, and I will need each of you to give me your word that what you hear tonight will not be repeated to anyone outside of this room. If you don't feel comfortable with this, you may leave. Mr. Black?"

"I give you my word," Sirius said. His attitude was now gone, and he was sitting up straight, his eyes alight.

"I give you my word," Dorcas said. Remus and Peter repeated the vow next.

James looked at me, then nodded. "I give you my word."

"I give you my word," I said.

Dumbledore settled back into his chair. He wasn't smiling anymore, and I felt my stomach drop. What had I just agreed to?

"In 1970," he said, "unbeknownst to everyone but a select group of people, I founded the Order of the Phoenix. Our purpose is simple: we exist simply to oppose the growing threat of Voldemort and his followers. After tremendous deliberation and debate, I have brought you all together to invite you to our cause."

**…**

James shut the door behind us. Though he sat next to me during dinner, I hadn't heard his voice in about an hour. None of us spoke much. I don't think I even tasted my food. We were all shocked, so absorbed with the idea of a secret society of witches and wizards that were prepared to die for one united reason.

Dumbledore had assured us that this was not an offer to take lightly. By joining, we were aligning ourselves with him and the side of the good; we would be prepared to do whatever it took to protect those who would be harmed by Voldemort. We would fight, and some of us would die. We weren't children anymore, not after what we had seen, the things we had experienced, the threats we were facing; not after the immense trust that Dumbledore was placing in us now.

"I will expect an answer within the week," he told us. "Do not think of this as a game or some sort of thrill. You are adults now. This decision will affect the rest of your lives."

Now, just a few hours later, James and I prepared for bed. I went into the bathroom and put on the nightgown that I had on this morning. My face in the mirror was drawn, pale, tired. I ran a hand through my hair and shut off the light behind me.

James was already in bed underneath the covers, his glasses on the nightstand and his arm slung over his eyes. Without thinking about it, I pulled back the sheet and slid in beside him.

Instead of protesting, and without moving his arm from his face, he said, "Are you going to do it?"

"I don't know," I said. I rested on my side and put my hand on his chest. "Are you?"

This time, without hesitation: "Yes."

Of course he was. It only made sense for him to. He moved his arm under my shoulder and motioned for me to scoot closer to him. I nestled against him, my ear against his heart; he pulled the covers up and spelled the lights off.

"So do you want to talk about it?"

I sighed. "Not really. Can we save that for tomorrow? I just… I want to be here." I lifted my hand from his chest and waved it around, motioning to his room, his bed, but of course he couldn't see it in the dark, so I gently patted his chest. "I like here."

"Me too. Can I just say that _here _is my favorite place? I would like to vacation to _here _once we graduate. Oh, the memories. Oh, the amount of pictures we will have of us being _here._"

"You are such a prat." I couldn't help laughing. "I'm trying to be nice and you're making fun."

His silence wasn't apologetic at all and I could feel his smile. He kissed the top of my head.

"Good night, Lily."

"Good night, James."

There in the dark, with James around me, his fingers slowly traveling up and down my arm, I felt like I was in the safest place in the world. I would have nightmares, I was sure. I would wake up in the middle of the night and wonder where I was, why my pulse was racing, why I was sweating, but this time, James would be there beside me.

"Lil?"

I wondered if he could also read my thoughts. "Yes?"

"I love you." In the sweet silence, I felt like I could cry from my absurd luck. He pressed his lips against my forehead and settled into our embrace, continuing his pattern of 8 on my arm.


	24. Lull

_A/N: Surprise! Alright, ladies and gents. Welcome back! We're doing this thing. Chapter 24 of 31. This is a little bitty chapter, but things are moving again-yay! Stay tuned. Thanks for your continued reviews and favorites, and thanks for sticking with me (especially for poking me to get along with it). Tons of thanks to my beta Zayz, who got this read and back to me in a day!_

_Alsooo, shameless plug time: I've made a tumblr for fandom/writing, and even though there's not much on there right now, I'm hoping to get more new fics on there, so if you'd like to check it out or drop me something in my ask, I'm at minawill DOT tumblr DOT com._

_Enjoy :)  
Mina_

* * *

**TWENTY FOUR: LULL**

* * *

_"Lily! Lily, help!"_

_Fire. Fire—life and death and orange tongues the color of my hair—licks up buildings, trees, cars. It rushes past me, crackling, blows heat into me, drives smoke deep into my lungs. I am on fire, inside and out. My skin melts. I feel individual eyelashes burn, glowing bright at the top of my vision. I hear my clothes disintegrate, fall from my body, leaving me naked and blackened._

_And the screaming. "Help! Somebody help! Lily!"_

_Someone else is on fire, trapped in the house that used to be my home. My mother's hyacinth bush next to the stairs is a pile of ash. It occurs to me that it is her voice I hear, but I have melted to the street, the skin of my feet rooting me to the asphalt. A screech comes from my throat and smoke pours out from behind my teeth. It sits on my tongue, a coat of heavy charcoal._

_"Mum!"_

_"Lily!" she screams. "LILY!"_

_My hand moves to grab my wand, but instead of the familiar wood, there is a knife. I bring it up to my face. In the glinting reflection of its surface, I see my eyes: red. My eyes are red and orange and yellow and blue, flickering, glinting against the knife as I blink. No pupils, only this energy, this heat._

_I bend down and cut my feet from the road. I feel no pain, though blood seeps from my flapping skin and the precious white that is my bone. I am fire. I am free._

_"Mum! I'm coming!"_

_I charge up the porch stairs. They crumple to dust behind me. The door falls off of its hinges as I push it aside. The whole house is falling apart as I look at it; the familiar rooms, all of our portraits, all of our precious family knickknacks, they're all in flames. I duck as a beam from the ceiling falls, but a nail that had held it up scrapes across the melted skin down my back. It pulls me to the floor, and I am pinned._

_"Lily… I can't—"_

_"Mum! Mum, no! I'm coming!"_

_The beam won't move. It's burning, I see it from the corner of my eye as I am pushed against the floor, feel the flames weaving across my bare skin. The fire just wants to be my friend, wants to embrace me; I am its family. We are both fire. __But I just want to save my mother._

_"You can't."_

_I try to turn my head, but I know it's him. James. He kneels beside me and takes the knife from my hand. He is dressed in white, but nothing touches him. My fire, my smoke—for all of this is mine, all of this is my doing—doesn't touch him here._

_As soon as his hand touches my face, the screams get louder, harder to ignore. Tears leak from my eyes, and these actually hurt. They clink to the floor, like bells, like heavy weights, and I can see that they are made of lead. My mother wails._

_"You can't save her," James says, not unkindly, but the way he looks at that knife… "I'm sorry."_

_He raises it above his head. "I'm sorry," he repeats. I don't try to stop him. I close my eyes, those molten tears hopefully sealing my ugly, hellish eyes shut, and pray that it is fast._

_The knife plunges into my back. Mum's screaming stops. I am not dead - I am fire. I feel James lean down, and it takes only a second, after he kisses my temple, to register the icy pain as the knife twists._

**_- QS -_**

I woke up on the floor, twisted in sheets, my throat sore from screaming. Someone was touching me, pinning me to the ground with fierce strength yet murmuring soft things to the side of my face, brushing my damp hair from my forehead. I tried to push away. The fire was all over me, trapping me, couldn't they tell? It was so _hot_. My throat was burnt. _Fire._

"Lily, shh. It was only a dream. You're safe. You're okay."

"_No_," I moaned, finally freeing my legs. My feet were ripped to pieces but I had to find my mother, had to fix what I did. I didn't want to be fire. Why couldn't he let me go? "I have to find her. She's going to _die_. Let me go! Let me GO!"

"Damn it, Lily."

He pushed me back so hard the back of my head hit the floor. For a moment, the pain granted me a sliver of clarity. I opened my eyes. Despite my thrashing about, James stayed, still whispering those words, too soft to be the James from my dream. He held me down, kissed me on the forehead as I stopped thrashing about. His eyes were different. They weren't black. They were wide and honey and I knew those eyes, the intensity, the inherent trust, the worry. I stared at them and saw myself—wild, hands pulling at my hair, face wet with sweat and tears. My chest rose and fell as his did. As I breathed, he breathed.

"I'm not on fire," I said. A shuddering gasp of air escaped my lungs and it was not smoke. "It was a dream."

"It was a dream." James loosened his grip on my wrists, positioned his legs so that they were no longer bracing mine to the floor, but he stayed where he was for the moment, kneeling beside me. "Are you alright?"

I nodded. I hadn't had a nightmare like that in a long time. Mum used to sit by me when I had nightmares, and then Dorcas when I was at school, and they always told me afterwards how much I flailed around and tried to punch them. "Did I hit you?" I asked.

"Only about twelve times," he said, smoothing his thumb under my eye. There was gentle teasing in his voice. "After the first three I realized that you were actually _trying_ to break my nose."

I groaned. "Sorry."

"Then you started saying my name, so I figured it was a good dream. You know, bruise me up a bit, break my glasses. I thought you'd start laughing."

Though he sounded alright, the wrinkle on his forehead betrayed his worry. His silence said that, no, I hadn't started laughing. It hadn't been a good dream at all. He left me, then, to answer the unasked question—_what happened?—_but it was still too close to talk about, the pain, my mother, his betrayal. Instead, I sat up and rested my face against his chest. He didn't press me for anything, but it was James, and I knew he wondered. The beat of his heart was always so much more telling than his deceptive words or face.

"I'm sorry for hitting you," I said, turning my face up so that my ear rested against his chest, my forehead just under his chin. He wound his arms around me. Briefly, as he knelt there and rubbed my back, played with the ends of my hair, I felt a little bubble of warmth in my throat. Last night he'd told me he loved me. _Loved me._

I kissed his neck. "Thank you."

"For what?"

_Always saving those I can't. _"Being here."

He squeezed my knee, a soft smile on his face. "Told you I would be."

**-** **QS -**

Breakfast was quiet. It was odd to see a group normally so spirited and loud sit so solemnly. Remus and Dorcas sat quietly at one end of the table, picking at their plates. Beside me, James twirled his fork through some syrup. Sirius paced before the mantle, chewing on a piece of bacon and wiping his greasy fingers on his trousers. I watched as the dark spot got larger as time went on, as his plate of bacon dwindled and his pace got quicker and then slower.

I ate a bit of eggs simply to have something in my stomach. After getting showered and dressed, we had all converged in the dining room for breakfast, but nobody was really up for talking, which left me to think about that dream. It obviously came from yesterday's attack and my anxiety about my mother. The contrast was clear: I wanted to protect her, but ultimately I was the fire that would destroy her. I was a witch, and the magic that was inside of me was also the magic inside of Voldemort. Though his was dark and mine wasn't, mine could turn, too, couldn't it? Just like Siobhan's loyalty. Voldemort was known to manipulate, to use force when courage stood against his bidding. Who could say that I wouldn't be so easily swayed, too?

If my mother was threatened, if I had to choose between her life and service to the Dark Lord, would I join him? Or would I let her die?

A loud slam made me jump. Remus threw his book on the table and stood, his chair sliding back and tipping precariously before righting itself. He glared at Sirius. "For God's sake, Padfoot, would you _stop pacing?_ Just… stop. Just sit down and eat and be still. You are driving me to madness."

"Ah, stuff it," Sirius said, but his heart wasn't in it. He took another piece of bacon out of his pocket and tossed it at Remus. It fell short, dropping into a goblet of orange juice.

We looked at it.

"Could you _stand_ still, at least?" Remus asked, pulling his chair back to its place and sitting down.

"Impossible," James said.

Sirius stopped pacing to consider, then shrugged his shoulders and turned his head back to the rug and his lines. Remus rolled his eyes; Dorcas put her hand on his arm and whispered something to him, which made him relax a bit more.

"Everybody's stressed out," James grumbled, dropping his fork into his syrup patterns. He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head toward me, but his eyes were following Sirius's strides, up the room and then back. I couldn't imagine what it was like in his head, having so many people to worry about. I only had my mother, Petunia, Dorcas, and him, but he had a whole extended family, a group of best friends, a new girlfriend that he had just started dating after years, a manor.

So much to lose.

"It's a big decision," I whispered back. "Just because you made yours already doesn't mean it's not difficult for the rest of us."

But it wasn't difficult, was it? I wanted to protect my family and friends. Voldemort wanted to take them away. The only logical course of action would be to take Dumbledore's offer, but if I joined the Order of the Phoenix, if I told him yes, what would that make me? I'd still be a student at Hogwarts, but I would also be—what? A soldier? He told us last night that we wouldn't have to skip classes or sacrifice our studies a significant amount to participate, and that we were, essentially, last reserves in case the school was infiltrated or he needed us, which was all and good, but still. I'd be a student and an undercover soldier in a secret army—how difficult would it be to find a balance between the two? Could I manage?

And then there was this other thing, putting my life in the hands of these other people, taking care of theirs in turn. If last night was any indication, we would be constantly left to protect one another These friends, old and new, would become my partners. Dorcas, my first friend, my lifeline; kind, brilliant Remus; Sirius, whose trust I've only started to earn; and James. James, and that impatience scrawled all over his tired face.

"What?" I ask him.

"How is it _difficult?_"

"Well, James, there's a lot to think about! You realize this is a dangerous situation, right? You were there last night, weren't you? Because I remember seeing you there—"

His lips twisted. "Don't."

"And I'm pretty sure I was cornered by a Death Eater at one point, and did you miss the part where _my entire street was destroyed?_"

Wordlessly he turned away. It was clear how annoyed he was, how frustrated and anxious, in the way he clenched his jaw and returned to watch Sirius pace, but I knew he wasn't dumb. He realized the danger; he was just being stubborn.

I tried to tap down my own exasperation. We were all too keyed up and it wouldn't do anybody any good to start arguing, especially James and I, not when things had been going well, not when last night had been a close call.

"I think I need to go home to think about everything," I announced to the room, pushing back my chair and tossing my napkin on the table.

"Lily—" James started, taking my wrist.

I pulled it gently away from him. "Please, James."

He nodded, let go. "Okay."

Dorcas stood and gave me a tight hug, told me that she'd be there in an instant whenever I needed her, and that we would figure out everything soon. Remus offered a light hug, as well, and while his was calm, Sirius nearly crushed me against his chest. I tried to keep his lower-half away from me so that the bacon grease on his trousers wouldn't transfer onto mine, but he pulled me ever closer.

"Uh," I said, gripping the back of his shirt. "Sirius?"

I didn't expect his response. "You realize you know mostly all of our biggest secrets?"

And I guess that was true. Remus was a werewolf, the rest of them were Animagi—what was bigger than that? I tried to think of something that could be within the realm of possibility and also even slightly realistic, but came up with nothing. Somehow, I was privy to their secrets. Somehow, they had wormed themselves into my life.

"That kind of makes you an honorary Marauder," he told me next, picking me up off my feet and squeezing me to him. Warmth crept through my heart, though that might've been less from his words and more because I couldn't much breathe from his grip around my waist. He set me on the floor and kissed my forehead. "So you'd better be safe, because you're one of us now."

"Okay," I said. I couldn't help but grin at him. "Same goes for you."

By the door, James waved me over. "Come on, then, little Marauder. I'll get you back home."

**-** **QS –**

Mum was waiting for me when I stepped through the front door. She fussed with me for a long while, smoothing out my clothes, brushing my hair back from my face. "You look like you haven't slept," she told me, putting her hands on my face and pulling the skin tight around my eyes. "You oughtn't look like such an old woman quite yet."

While she set about getting me some lunch—even though I had just eaten breakfast, I couldn't help but allow her this—I stared at the reconstructed window in the front of my house, and place on the front porch where the balustrade had been broken, the perfectly sculpted flower bushes. Everything was just like it had been. And it was all a lie. I think even Mum could tell, though her memories had been altered. Dumbledore told me that she'd remember nothing about the night before, but in her heart I knew there were vestiges of unease, of fear. She could tell something was off, even if she couldn't pinpoint what, exactly, it was.

She took it out on worrying about me. "Are you sure you're alright? I just haven't seen you like this before."

"I'm sure, Mum," I said, my smile more for her benefit than mine. It was hard to lie to her, but now it was necessary. "I am pretty tired. We, um, danced a lot at the gala, and it ran late so I didn't get much sleep."

"Well, you'll just eat this and then I'll send you back up to bed, alright?" She sat a sandwich and a glass of water in front of me. "I'll even tuck you in like old times."

I groaned, which made her laugh, and that by itself was worth it if I had to let her tuck me in like I was five again. We chatted a bit more about the gala, the music and the people and James's parents. When she asked, a knowing twinkle in her eye, if James kissed me, I allowed my blush to speak for me. After my stomach was full and my plate was clean, she hurried me up the stairs. I got into my pajamas.

"You really don't have to tuck me in," I told her, slipping between the sheets.

She sat down beside me. "Humor me."

"If that's what you want." As she pulled my sheets up to my shoulders, I asked her, "What do you do if you have-if you're stuck in a decision? How do you know what the right thing to do is?"

It was killing me to be vague. Mum tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. Whether or not she understood what was going on, she still answered, "There might not be a 'right thing,' Lil, but as long as you feel right about it, as long as you do what you think you have to, then that's the right thing. Is there... is there something specific bothering you?"

_Oh, Mum, I'm sorry, _I thought, watching as she gazed at me like she couldn't figure me out, like she wished she could crack open my diversions and get at my real problems, like she wanted me to be little again so I would tell her everything. I didn't answer. She leaned down and rested her head against mine for just a minute, just long enough for me to inhale the scent of her hair and wish she'd stay there with me all night.

"Just remember that what you need is always at home, okay?" she said to me, cupping my face in her hand. "Remember that."

"I will, Mum."

She drew the curtains closed and blew me a kiss before she left, and the image of her standing in the doorway, the light from the hallway shining behind her, was imprinted on my eyes as I closed them to fall asleep.


End file.
